


Words Unspoken

by whitesplashes



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Arranged Marriage, Bickering, Divorce, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 48,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesplashes/pseuds/whitesplashes
Summary: Words unspokenArranged Marriage AUThe first time John Smith laid eyes on Clara Oswald, she was a pretty, young girl, with big brown eyes. The second time he saw her, she was a beautiful woman with a mind of her own. The third time, they were wed via an arranged marriage. Despite Mr. Smith’s wealthy background and bad habit of always getting what he wanted; he is up for a challenge when his wife does not return his undying affections. Clara is determined to turn their marriage upside down and force his hand for a divorce; but when she discovers the true reason for the arrangement, she can no longer determine friend from foe.





	1. Resigned to her fate

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea just popped up in my head while I was being idle at work and I had to begin writing it! Clara's background will be revealed throughout various chapters as the story develops and the pieces of the puzzle will begin to fall into place.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story, as I am currently enjoying building the plot.
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcomed and a big thank you in advance for any that you may give me! *hugs*

Chapter 1

The tears rolled down Clara’s cheeks, as the maid finished tying the back of her corset wedding dress. Today was the day she was going to wed John Smith, one of the wealthiest men in Blackpool. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and felt a queasy sensation begin to fester in her belly. At the age of twenty-five, she wanted nothing more than to travel the world; see the pyramids, taste the exotic spices of India… Instead, she was no more than a pretty, young bride who was about to begin a new life with a man she knew nothing about, except a name and the faint memory of an aged face. Her dream of being an artist was on pause, if not shattered now by her colossal fate.

‘All done, Miss,’ announced the maid, smiling at her happily.

‘You look beautiful,’ she commented.

Clara swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat as she bit back more tears that threatened to escape.

‘Come now Miss, there is no need to be sad. Mr. Smith is a wonderful man and would take good care of you. He is also very rich.’

The young bride said nothing and stared out the window, watching the large gathering seated on the fresh green grass, outdoors. A knock on the door averted her attention and a head popped up from behind the old wood. 

‘They’re waiting,’ said the informer.

The maid gathered the skirts of the dress and held them up, as the young woman pulled the veil over her face. Clara took it as her cue, that this was it. She was out of time. There was no escaping it, despite how hard she fought her father, not to force her into a loveless marriage. He insisted she marry Mr. Smith to form an alliance with their families, to ease their increasing financial burden. With her father’s love for gambling and bad spending tendencies, she felt the universe was dealing her an absurd hand of card; and the unfairness of having to pay the price for his mistakes was audacious.

Their last conversation ended in a fight and Mr. Oswald stressed how badly they needed Mr. Smith’s money, else the bank was going to take everything from them. If she openly applied for a divorce, it would give her father a bad name but if she made her husband so miserable, that he would want nothing better than to throw a towel on their marriage, then she would be free. How long it would take? God only knew and if she could escape sooner, she would! 

As she carefully took the last few steps down the winding staircase, she stared at the painting of her late mother one last time. If only she were alive today, none of this would be happening. The blinding light of the early evening sunshine, made her eyes hurt. The crowd gasped as the wedding theme began to play and she marched to the makeshift altar alongside her father, with her age-able groom staring at her, completely smitten. She gulped down a breath of air as Mr. Oswald led her to the arch of flowers, all decked with pink and white peonies, that stood as her stop point. He released her arm and took a step to the side. John held out his left palm for her to take, which she did hesitantly.

As they exchanged vows, her body began to shake. That nausea she felt earlier, began to build up and she forced herself to stay calm, as the groom slid the golden ring onto her finger. She copied the motion and now it was time for their first kiss. John carefully lifted the veil from her face and looked into her sad, terrified eyes. For a second, he just stared at her, noting the worry on her face. Without much effort, he bent down and kissed her tenderly. She did not return the gesture and quickly pulled away, to his demise. He pursed his lips and nodded to the priest, who announced them as Mr and Mrs Smith. Clara clutched her belly, but her husband gently took her hand and slowly led her down the aisle, as the congregation threw flower petals and grains of rice at them. 

They both walked into the large hall a few meters from the ceremony area, decked again with pink and white peony bouquets. He had tried to create a fairy tale fantasy atmosphere just for her, in hope she would feel like a princess who was about to be whisked away by prince charming. Before the wedding, they had only met briefly several times, merely exchanging minor greetings. He knew nothing of his new wife, nor did she know anything about him. 

They were both seated at the head of a table and friends and family of both sides gave their blessings and best wishes to the couple. As the music began, Clara felt the doom sink in as John led her to the floor, for their first dance as husband and wife. He was gentle as they swayed to the tune. He smiled at her and told her she looked beautiful, but she ignored all his attempts of conversation. As the dance ended, she quickly excused herself and strolled into the garden, taking in the cool evening air. The brunette clutched her belly, before bending over and emptying her stomach of all its contents.

‘Clara?’ called John, from a distance.

She refused to answer and quickly picked herself up and walked deeper into the darkness. The nausea began to rise again and she had to stop and hurl once more; her loud retching giving away her position. A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders and she shuddered at the foreign touch.

‘Are you alright, darling?’ 

‘I’m fine,’ she choked, wiping her mouth with the hem of her dress.

‘Everyone’s looking for you. Let’s go back inside,’ he ushered.

‘I would like to stay out here a bit longer, if you don’t mind,’ she spat.

He nodded and smiled at her, placing his jacket over her. His scent clung to it and it made her sicker.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, removing the item of clothing from her upper body and handing it back to him.

‘I don’t want you catching a cold,’ he said.

‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,’ she replied, through gritted teeth.

He stared at her in the dim moonlight and took the apparel from her hands, walking away without another word. She looked to the sky and stared at the large, full moon. If there was a God, he’d help her in her situation right now. Clara decided to walk the full length of the garden, finding herself in her family’s large driveway which served as the parking lot for the event. She stared at the black limo that was parked in the main driveway and groaned. She walked past it in a heartbeat and found her father’s car, stationed not too far from it.

‘I wonder…’ she mumbled to herself.

She pulled at the door, which was unlocked, and sank into the driver’s seat. If only she had the keys… she searched the obvious places and found no luck. However, she tried one last place, underneath the passenger’s seat and sure enough, there it was. Without a care, she started the vehicle and grinned to herself. She quietly drove out the premises and onto the main road, without a soul to notice, except a couple of already drunk guests.

She kept glancing at the rear view mirror as she sped up the long expanse of pitch. This was it. This was finally it. She was going to get away and her new husband could shove his wedding ring up his wrinkly, old arse! Clara tore off her veil and threw it out the window. Where would she go from here? Certainly not to her new home and turning around to go back to her house, was not an option. She pulled to the side of the road and looked around for a wallet. Nothing. She needed cash and according to the fuel gauge, she was running out of petrol and fast. She racked her brain for a solution, until she stared at her hand and smiled wickedly. 

Mrs Smith sank onto the cheap hotel bed and laughed manically. Nobody would find her here or even suspect a rich man’s daughter would attempt to stay in a shabby place like this. She had no idea how long she had been driving for, or how far she made it from home, but she felt tired after the day’s events and needed to rest, before heading out in the morning. Tomorrow she would have to ditch her father’s car and buy a new one; or trade in his for something less flashy. That was a thought for daybreak. She stretched on the lumpy mattress, thinking of what a pity it was, to rid of the lovely wedding dress in a nearby dumpster. As she began to drift off to sleep, there was a loud bang on the door, and in walked four men dressed in black.

‘Mrs Smith… we’re here to escort you back to the Smith residence. Your husband is very worried,’ one of them announced. 

‘No…’ she said hoarsely.

She attempted to dart past them and climb through the adjacent window, but one of the men read her mind and blocked her only potential route for escape. They were going to take her back to him, and there was nothing she could do about it…


	2. Beauty and the beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comment! I'm glad I have gotten your attention :)
> 
> Let's see what's happened to Clara and how John will react after retrieving his runaway bride.

Chapter 2

‘Let me go!’ Clara screamed, as she was manhandled into the awaiting car, outside the cheap hotel.

‘I’m not going back there!’

‘Mr. Smith is going insane. He’s been looking for you all night. We have instructions to find and return you to him.’

‘No!’ Don’t take me back there! Please!’ she begged.

They ignored her and shoved her into the backseat, a bodyguard on either side of her for the ride to her awaiting prison. She begged endlessly hallway through the journey, but it made no difference. When they drove through a large black iron gate and rolled up to a huge white mansion, Clara had the feeling of dread. The men dragged her into the house and locked her in a large bedroom, with a bed covered in rose petals. She looked at the scene, completely terrified and was almost at her wit’s end when her eyes fell on an open box, with a red piece of lingerie nestled inside on the nightstand.

She banged on the door and screamed and cried, but no-one came. After what felt like an hour, the door clicked open and in walked a rather grim, John Smith. Clara immediately backed away into the corner of the room, distancing herself from the bed as much as possible. He still wore his wedding clothes and looked tired. The rich fellow glanced at her and slowly unbuttoned his waist coat and the top two buttons of his white dress shirt. Slowly, he sank onto the bed and kicked off his shoes.

‘You know leaving is fruitless,’ he started.

‘I had guests asking for my bride and sent my guards to find you, only for them to turn up empty handed. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me, tonight?’ 

His voice was a blanket of calm, and so was his face… but his eyes… they were ice cold.

‘I don’t care,’ she managed to say, mustering as much courage as she could.

He cocked an eyebrow and stood up, his tall, lean frame towering over her.

‘Do you now?’ he crooned, approaching her slowly.

Clara pressed her back against the wall, her heart beginning to pound wildly in her chest. She stared at him wide-eyed in fright, darting her eyes between him and the decorated bed, made exclusively for their first time together as man and woman. A tear rolled down her cheek, as he placed either arm against the wall, boxing her in. She began to tremble violently as she stared into his cold, blue eyes. They were furious, and she had no idea what he was thinking, but given it was technically still their wedding night, there must be only one thing on his mind. She shut her eyes tight as he moved one of his hands and to her surprise, he did not strike or attempt to remove her clothing. Instead, she felt him brush away her tear.

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Clara…’ she heard him whisper, softly.

She opened her large, brown eyes and saw the icy, cold glare was now replaced by one of concern and sadness.

‘Do you think me a monster? That I would force you when I know you harbour no feelings for me?’ he asked, upset.

He straightened himself and took a few steps back, granting her some space.

‘Then why did you marry me? You know my father set this entire façade to have a share of your earnings…’ she wanted to know.

‘Yes, I know. Clara Oswald, you are a very beautiful woman and any man would love to have a beauty such as yourself by his side. Besides, I always get what I want.’

She scoffed, ‘Well you are in for a rude awakening.’

‘Maybe in time, you’ll learn to love me.’

‘Who can ever love a twisted, corrupted man like you?’ she spat.

He glared at her but quickly calmed down and cleared his throat. 

‘This house is your home now. You may come and go as you please, but only in the presence of my men. You will be constantly monitored to prevent another episode of tonight, from happening,’ the silver haired man explained.

‘You have access to everything except my study. You are not to go in there under any circumstances.’

‘What’s so special about your study?’

‘It’s none of your concern!’ he said a bit too harshly.

She flinched at his change in tone and found her ground seconds later and questioned, ‘How did you find me?’

He smirked and gave an unsettling grin, ‘GPS. You father had a chip embedded in his car and we noticed it was missing and figured, you must’ve taken it.’

Clara flared her nostrils at how stupid she had been. Her father loved that car and it was so obvious he would do something like that.

‘This is supposed to be our room, but seeing you’re not ready for that level in our relationship as husband and wife, I’ve taken the precaution and had a separate room prepared for you.’

The brunette blinked in surprise. Her husband opened the door and stepped out of the room, beckoning his new wife to follow. She pursued a few steps behind, as they walked down the long corridor and surely at the end, there was a white door with a small golden butterflies plastered on the surface.

‘This is your room. It has already been stocked with clothing and everything you need. The maids arrive at eight to tend to your needs. If you need me for anything, you know where my room is. Breakfast is always at nine. Our honeymoon has been temporarily delayed due to some business I have to tend to. We can book one later on… if you like…’

When she showed no reaction, he opened the door and she slowly stepped inside. It was wonderfully decorated. A canopy bed, luxurious bath tub and a couch, all accented in a calming blue and white colour scheme.

‘I hope it’s to your liking…?’

‘It’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Smith.’

He looked at her almost pained when she addressed him formally.

‘Please… call me John… we are married after all.’

She ignored him once again and he took it as his cue to leave.

John placed his forehead against the cool painted wood and sighed heavily. Hopefully, just hopefully Clara would open up to him. He had a habit of getting everything he wanted and he did get Clara… but not all of her. What’s the point in having a body, when it was devoid of a soul? The old chap balled his fists, fully aware of the muffled sobs that escaped from under the door. Clara was unhappy… and there was nothing he could do about it. If only she knew the reason this entire wedding even took place, she would hate her father for eternity… but she would hate him even more…


	3. I will never be yours...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments and theories as to what John's secret may be! 
> 
> It's nothing too complicated or would it be?
> 
> For now, let's see how Clara handles her first morning at her new home. 
> 
> P.S. I'm going to be posting on weekends because I get home late from work during the week and I'm too drained to type up an error free chapter.
> 
> I hope you guys can stay and bear with me, till the next update!

Chapter 3

Clara awoke with a start, as the curtains were pulled back and the bright morning light filtered into her room. She took a pillow and tossed it over her face, to cover her sensitive eyes.

‘Good morning, Mrs. Smith,’ announced a young woman with a Scottish accent.

Clara peeked from under the soft bedding accessory and saw a pretty red head, staring at her intently.

‘Can I… help you?’ she asked, slowly.

‘Wakey, wakey, Mrs. Smith. Today is a big day for you!’ she chimed happily, pulling the duvet off the young woman’s body.

The chill rush of air that hit her, made her curl into a ball and she had no choice but to get up. As she slowly sat up, reality sank in. She wasn’t in her own room anymore, but one that was made to accommodate her daily needs. Surely, it was nice but not her style. Mr. Smith clearly went through a lot of trouble to make her feel at home; not that she cared. The brunette stood up as the maid made the bed and walked towards the large French styled window. The view outside was lovely. Her room sat above a large garden, filled with a wonderful mix of trees and countless hedges and flower beds. In the distance, she could even see the top of a gazebo. It was obvious she had nothing like this in her old home. There was a garden but nothing as grand.

‘It’s even lovelier if you look from the balcony,’ came the maid, opening one of the tall doors to the right.

Clara nodded in thanks and stepped outside, hugging herself as the cold morning wind surrounded her tiny body. 

‘What do you plan to wear to breakfast?’

The newly wedded woman sighed heavily and spun on her heels, marching towards the large wardrobe. She tugged at the handle and her jaw nearly dropped at the number of items of clothing that was packed inside. A wave of nausea, similar to the one from last night washed over her and she immediately took a seat at the edge of the bed.

‘Everything alright?’ asked the red head, worriedly.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit ill…’

The maid bent forward, meeting her at eye level and smiled.

‘I know this is all new to you and I can’t imagine how you must feel in your current situation.’

Her words made Clara feel worse and her eyes began welling up. The young lady took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

‘You’re very brave and very kind. The last Mrs. Smith I had to deal with in this house, spat on and screamed at me on her first morning here, because I didn’t knock on the door and woke her up too soon,’ she explained.

‘The last Mrs Smith…?’

‘Yep. The Master’s old wife. She was a hideous thing. I did get back at her though.’

‘How?’ asked Clara curiously.

‘I poured salt in her fave drink while she was in the shower. She always had a glass of champagne after her morning bath. Spat it out and complained to her husband how the wine was possessed.’

The brunette couldn’t help laughing and the maid joined in with her.

‘That’s more like it. Start each day, be it good or bad with a smile. Don’t you feel better, now?’

‘I do. Thank you… what’s your name?’

‘Amelia but you can call me Amy.’

The new Mrs Smith smiled and shook her hand, much to the woman’s surprise but appreciated the kind gesture.

‘What happened to her? The old Mrs Smith?’ she asked curiously.

‘They got a divorce a few years ago. The old man found her cozy in their bed with one of the kitchen boys who used to work here.’

They both grimaced at what the scene must’ve looked like and she found it unfortunate things turned sour for his marriage.

‘Anyway, let’s get you dressed. Your husband would want to have breakfast with you before leaving town later today.’

\------------

John was already seated at the table and tapped his fingers on the polished oak impatiently, as he awaited Clara’s arrival. A flick of his wrist, revealed she was half an hour late. Was she going to show up? The creak of the stairwell was sign that someone was descending the stairs and he hoped to God it was her. His waiting paid off, when he spotted her, along with Amy. His eyes swept over her, as they made their way towards him. She wore a green, polka dotted blouse and tan trousers with a pair of brown chunky heels. He’d hoped she wore something more feminine like a dress or skirt, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

‘Good morning,’ he greeted her as he pulled open the chair beside his for her to sit. 

‘Mornin’…’ she mumbled and took the chair three seats down from his.

He clapped his hands together, a bit taken aback and waved for Amy to leave.

‘Did you sleep well, my dear?’

Clara huffed and glared at him.

‘Look, it’s no use trying to be nice to me. We both know where we stand in this façade and I’m not one to play games. Do not call me, dear, darling or any pet names! Address me only as Clara or Miss Oswald, are we clear?’ she hissed, cutting straight to the chase.

John chuckled and rocked back in his seat.

‘You mean, Mrs Smith,’ he corrected.

‘I’m not your wife!’

‘Well, per the document and witnesses that were there when we signed the marriage certificate, we surely are. There’s nothing you can do about it and a divorce is not an option.’

‘Why not?!’ she barked.

‘You don’t think I know you’re being like this on purpose because, you’re unhappy? You think I don’t know you don’t love me and never wanted an old man for a husband? I’m not a fool, Clara.’

She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes.

‘Well, I hope you are ready to have a mean, temperamental woman by your side for the rest of your short, miserable life!’

He exhaled loudly through his nose and raked a hand through his hair.

‘Clara, I don’t want to fight. I already had a rough night trying to find you as is. Please, let’s not start our first today as a married couple like this, please?’ he pleaded, nicely.

‘I’m not your wife…’ she repeated, once more.

‘You are whether you like it or not. Get used to the idea!’

‘I AM NOT! I WILL NEVER BE YOURS!’ she screamed and kicked her chair over, before running out of the dining room in tears.

One of his men came quickly to his side, but he held up a hand stopping him.

‘Give her some space, but make sure she doesn’t try anything stupid. If she leaves, ensure you follow her and bring her back after you access the situation.’

The man nodded and left, leaving John alone in the large, empty room. Clara Oswald was going to be quite a challenge. He loved challenges, but to overcome difficult ones sometimes came with a price. Marrying her was one part, but the price? It would cost him her and he hoped that it never came to light… because she was now everything to him.


	4. Icy water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekend is here and what does that mean? A chapter update! Yay!!!

Chapter 4

Clara ran through the various rooms, looking for an exit out of the house. Every door she pushed or pulled led into another adjoining space. When she reached the kitchen, she shoved the large backdoor and felt immediate relief, as the wind hit her face. She didn’t stop there and continued running, heading straight for the garden ahead. Her mind was a scramble of emotions and she felt so overwhelmed that she barely noticed how much prettier the flower beds were up close. When the fatigue began to overtake her body, she stopped under a large weeping willow tree and sank to the ground in tears.

It felt like hours till she stopped crying and lay on her back, the feeling of the green grass, a welcoming sensation. A soft buzzing made her frown and she reached into her pocket for her mobile phone. It was John. She declined the call and tossed it aside, rising to her feet. They ached with all the running and her shoes were not exactly the perfect type for that sort of physical activity. Effortlessly, the little lady chucked them off and wandered further into the green space.

She had to admit, whoever John Smith’s landscaper was, they surely knew what they were doing. The sweet odours of flowers in bloom filled her nose and the refreshing sight of butterflies fluttering by made her smile. She chuckled when one landed on her shirt. It must’ve thought she were a flower bud. A faint neighing sliced through the air and she walked towards the sound. Surely enough she found herself standing before a large stable, filled with at least ten horses. 

A white-haired man with a beard, much older than John was tending to one of them. After a few moments he noticed her and waved. She smiled and waved back, before approaching him.

‘Good morning, Mrs Smith,’ he greeted, kindly.

‘You know who I am? she asked, surprised.

‘Everyone on the premises does, my dear lady,’ he said with a chuckle.

‘You work here?’

‘Yes ma’am. I look after your husband’s horses. Magnificent creatures, are they not?’

‘They’re beautiful,’ she divulged, petting a brown one with a splash of white on its face.

‘Oh, that’s Sheba. She’s quite a bratty one,’ he noted, as he watched her stroke the animal, gently.

‘How so?’ she asked, amused.

‘She loves attention. Quite fond of the master, too. She’s his horse and nobody can touch her but him. Seems she likes you too.’

‘She’s sweet,’ she said, with a soft smile on her face.

‘You want to take her for a ride?’

‘I don't think that would be wise…’ she began.

‘You sure? She needs her daily exercise… unless you wanna ride a different one.’

She contemplated his offer for a few moments and agreed. He walked her along the stable and she watched at least five of the horses carefully before making her pick.

‘Ah, that’s Midnight. Good choice. He’s a cheeky lad, who likes a bit of fun but very protective of his rider.’

‘You make the horses sound like people,’ she commented, stroking the jet-black horse’s face.

‘Animals have personalities too, lass and in a sense, they are like people, also.’

She grinned at him and tried hard to contain her excitement as he slipped the bridle over the animal’s head and prepared to saddle him.  
The tiny woman felt so free, as she galloped through the gardens, leaping over flower beds and hedges, laughing happily. She could care less if her hair was a mess, or there were mud stains all over her trousers and feet. For now, it was just her and Midnight, taking on the great outdoors.

‘Clara!’ shouted her husband and she looked over her shoulder to see him behind her, riding Sheba.

Her happiness immediately turned sour and she snapped her head forward and beckoned the horse to go faster. John assumed she was racing against him and took it as a challenge, to catch up with her. Midnight was a fast horse, but so was Sheba and the three folds she had for him, were going to be pure fuel when they get old enough to be ridden on. Clara led Midnight through a growth of oak trees, all planted in a single alignment.

‘Clara! Slow down!’ John shouted after her.

She ignored him and continued racing, pushing the horse to his full potential. Unfortunately, she was unaware of the river that ran through her husband’s estate and Midnight came to sudden halt, sending her flying off the saddle and straight into the icy water. Thankfully, the water was deep enough to brace her fall, but the current was another matter.

‘Clara!’ screamed John, springing off his horse and running along the side of the bank, as she was whisked away by the raging energy.

She tried swimming against its mighty power, but it was no use, until she rode it and managed to grab onto an overhanging tree, holding onto it for dear life. John was there in two heartbeats, pulling her out of the frigid coldness. He took the saddle blanket and draped it over her shivering body.

‘Get away from me!’ she hissed, shoving him hard.

‘I just saved your life! A thank you would be the right thing to say,’ he countered.

‘I saved myself. You didn’t jump in to get me.’

‘I pulled you out. That bit’s important.’

‘I could’ve done it without your help,’ she snapped and pushed past him.

That was it. He had enough of her immature behaviour and grabbed her arm. She spun around in surprise and glared at him.

‘Let me go,’ she demanded.

‘I’ve had enough, Clara! You can’t change the situation,’ he reasoned.

‘Hate me all you want. Swear at me. Destroy things. I don’t care! You are my wife and I am your husband… I just want us to get along.’

He straightened his back and pinched the top of his nose as she began to cough. John grew concerned, suggesting they head for the house. They rode back to the stables in silence and Clara would not let him help her climb off the horse, despite how stiff she felt or even let him touch her. She slammed the door in his face when he escorted to her room and stood beside it, occasionally asking her if she was okay. 

She never replied, and it took him enough bravery to open the door without knocking, after any movement he heard from behind the door ceased. 

‘Clara?’ he called, carefully.

If he saw her naked, she would kill him. He knew it and for a tiny person, it was amazing how much temper it could house.

He peeked from behind the door and saw a bump under the duvet. Slowly, he called her name again, but there was no response. John very slowly, walked up to the bed and couldn’t help but smile at how she covered her entire body with the warm bedding, only long strands of her now her dry, brunette hair poking out.

‘Clara?’ he called again, much more gently.

She shifted in the covers. He lifted the duvet partly and saw her face flush and how much she was trembling. He placed the back of his palm against her forehead and felt for a fever. Thankfully, she was fine. He scoped around the room, noting the wet clothes discarded on the edge of the tub and the mirror still frosted from the hot shower she took previously. Mr Smith pulled the duvet a bit lower, praying she was dressed in something warm and she was, to his relief. 

‘Mom…’ she mumbled, sleepily.

He looked at her face and she appeared to be dreaming.

‘Don’t go, mom…’ 

His heart felt heavy when heard her words and it didn’t help when the tears trickled down her cheek. He brushed them away and watched her sleep for a few moments, before shutting her window and adding an extra blanket atop her, to keep her nice and toasty. The silvered fellow caressed her cheek and placed a kiss atop her head, muttering how sorry he was for everything and quietly shut the door behind him. 

He locked himself in his study and sank into his favourite chair. He cracked his knuckles and removed the leather glove he wore, staring at the two missing fingers on his right hand. It was difficult for him to pretend things were alright and shed light that her father was a scoundrel and did not care about her. It was actually the opposite and he had to play the game… but it was difficult and even more so for Clara, as she was being made to believe that he was a bad person.

A little rummaging through his desk and he found a small silver box. He opened the item and pulled out a newspaper clipping from three months ago; with the headline, ‘Wife of wealthy entrepreneur Dave Oswald, commits suicide.’ He folded and tossed it back into the container, slamming it shut. A suicide was what they called it… but he knew it wasn’t. Not even close…


	5. Pay what you owe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments! I am pleased that you are enjoying it and I really hope that I do not disappoint you as it goes along.
> 
> So, let's take a trip back to the past and see if we can piece together the puzzle that is the present!

Chapter 5

Three months ago

‘John… I need your help,’ stated Dave Oswald desperately to his good friend.

‘I’m not loaning you any more money, Dave. Haven’t you learnt your lesson from the last episode you had?!’ the greying male scolded.

‘Look… I know I said I was going to quit gambling… but please, this is the last time. I really, really need your help!’

John glared at him and folded his arms.

‘No. You’re on your own this time.’

Dave’s eyes widened and he went on his knees before John, begging.

‘Please… it’s Marco… he’s threatened to kill my wife and take Clara if I don’t pay what I owe…’

Mr Smith’s ears perked at the mention of his counterpart’s daughter. He had met her briefly a few times while she was growing up. She was a pretty thing who blossomed into a beautiful, young woman. Had truth be told, he’d been in love with her for the last few years, but his age was a big factor to play. Clara was now in her mid-twenties and although she was eligible for a man of any age to court, he kept his distance for fear of being rejected. Besides, a young lady should look for someone as youthful as herself to marry, and not some old goon who had a few years before he fell onto his deathbed.

‘What… did you do to step on Marco’s temper?’ he asked warily.

‘I needed a loan… to pay off Rasilon. I had borrowed money from him too.’

The old fellow rubbed his temples and groaned.

‘You didn’t have a better plan than to ask someone else? Marco is a man who ensures he gets his payments back, else he takes it in other ways! You brought this on yourself and now your family is in danger for your stupidity!’

‘Will you help me?!’ he pleaded, clutching John’s arm.

He knew he was going to regret this but nodded in agreement.

‘When is the deadline?’

‘Midnight… we have half an hour.’

John whipped out his chequebook and signed out a payment of ten thousand dollars to Marco Ramirez; a man who was rich only for his dabbling in the filth of the underworld. 

‘God bless you, John!’ Mr. Oswald exclaimed and tipped his hat to him, before climbing into his car and driving off.

John shook his head and knew he was never going to see any of the loaned cash ever again, but to keep Dave out of trouble for a few hours along with his wife and especially Clara, he felt like the deed was fulfilled with good intentions. Instead of taking his usual ride home with his butler, he opted for a stroll downtown to clear his head of the mess that was Dave Oswald. His addiction to gambling had his marriage on the rocks and John knew all too well, it was a matter of time before Dave’s wife left him. 

It was sad to think that a successful entrepreneur would fall prey to such shady recreation, to the point he risked his marriage and family’s lives. He wondered how well his household held together, with his increasing debt and how they even got by. A name and face were all they had, but he knew Dave for years, when he had just began working for him in his first establishment and guided him towards his own course of success. In a retrospect, the man was his friend but now he questioned if that status still applied.

As he strolled through the streets, hands in pockets, the calm night air was shattered by the explosive sound of a gunshot. John froze in his tracks and looked around, searching the dark corners of the street alleys and shops for any perpetrator. He heard a loud shouting and the roar of an engine with the loud unearthly screech of tires on the black pitch. He ran to the direction of the sound and saw Dave Oswald on the ground, clutching a lifeless body. The closer he got, he recognized the face of the dead woman in his arms. It was his wife.

‘Dave…?’ called John carefully, sinking beside him and watched the blood gush from the gunshot wound to the side of her head.

‘I was too late… she was looking for me… Knew I was coming to meet you at your office… and she told me to meet her by the main city fountain…’ he said as the tears rolled down his face.

‘At that moment, as soon as I spotted her… just a few feet away… they drove by and shot her…’

John felt sympathy for him and offered his condolences.

‘I can’t let the press or police know she was murdered… they’d start an investigation! They’ll find out about my debt and my good name will be destroyed! I’ll go to jail and have no money to bail myself out, far less pay for a lawyer… or continue to fund Clara’s art exhibitions!’

‘Dave… where is Clara? If they attacked your wife… then they must have her next on their list!’ he said, urgently.

They scanned their surroundings for signs of anyone. There was nobody. No pedestrians, no passing vehicles. The area was ominously secluded.  
The two men froze when Mr Oswald’s phone rang. He stared at the number on the mobile, with his bloody hand. Instantly, a shiver ran up his spine as he instantly recognized who it was.

‘Hello?’ he answered, trying to maintain composure.

John mouthed for him to put the call on loud speaker.

‘Bang, bang Mr. Oswald,’ greeted a male voice on the line with a Spanish accent.

‘You owe me and you have not paid. I set deadline and yet, you no pay on time. Now, you are wifeless,’ he said amused.

‘I hear your daughter is a beauty. Wonder what that young, firm skin must feel like…’

‘Don’t you dare touch her!’ 

The man gave a sinister laugh.

‘Pay what you owe, or she shares the same fate. After all, it would be sad to crash the little party she is at right now,’ he mused, and Dave could hear the music of a party he knew she was currently attending, in the background.

He began to panic and John himself felt like the wind was knocked out of him, at the words he heard.

‘I give you one hour to deliver my money, cash or cheque… or my men will kill everyone in that party and of course, I will save the best for last. You know where to find me,’ he instructed and hung up.

John gulped hard and stared at his friend. This was bad.

‘What are we going to do?’ Clara’s father asked.

‘Go to him… but first we have to take care of this…’ he said, nodding to his friend’s deceased wife’s body.

John with Dave’s aid, placed Mrs Oswald’s body sitting upright on a bench outside the city, in a dark area overlooking the river. He felt sick at the notion of it and threw up into the black water below. He tucked a gun Dave kept in his car, into her palm and prayed no one saw them as they slipped away.

‘I’ll make some calls in the morning and see to it, that they cover this up,’ he had assured the widower, knowing he had some leverage in the local police station.

\--------

‘Well, well, well, I see you got the money,’ chimed Marco, seated on a large wooden chair, that looked more like a king’s throne, with two large, strapping bodyguards on either side of him.

Mr. Oswald produced the cheque to the underlord and watched uneasily, as he took it in hand.

‘This isn’t your money… I see you now owe someone else,’ he said with a chuckle.

‘Ah well, not my problem but… you are still late. So, I’m afraid I’ll be needing interest on this.’

Dave’s face was a look of horror. He was a dead man and he knew it. There was no way he could get anymore money than what he just gave, far less ask his friend for more.

‘So, that means… I get your daughter….’

Please…’ he began to beg.

‘Not my little girl…’

‘Why not?’

‘She’s all I have left… you already took my wife… not her too,’ he said, sobbing miserably.

He smirked and leaned back in his chair.

‘I make deal with you… seeing as I’m in a good mood.’

Dave looked up at him with teary eyes.

‘In my family, married women are considered untouchable and highly respected… even the cruellest men of my family tree never as much as laid a finger on them. So… I’ll spare your daughter and your life if and only if you, have her married within the next three months,’ he explained.

‘However, for the first year of marriage, I must get to meet her once at some point, in person. And you my little friend, need to introduce me to the groom, as soon as you have found one … as a binding to our deal. On top of this, you will continue to pay be five thousand pounds for a year, as insurance…’

Dave nodded, without protest and was guided out of the small office, into the back alley of the building. He wasted no time running to his car and speeding off. When he was sure nobody was following him, he breathed a sigh of relief. His face was coated with sweat, his shirt soaked through. He needed to keep Clara safe and he knew there was only one solution. The highly stressed man pulled into his friend’s front yard two hours later and pounded on his front door. The butler let him in and he paced the floor restlessly until John came downstairs, worried and stressed.

Before the old chap could ask if the deed was done, Dave blurted out, ‘I need you to marry my daughter!!’


	6. Bound with blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I hope last chapter cleared some air. This one will explain about John's missing fingers.
> 
> I have to admit, while I was writing the scene, I imagined it in such a brutal way, I was cringing all the way through to the end of this chapter *shudders*
> 
> Hang in there, people and stay with me!
> 
> John and Dave are just misunderstood guys. Poor fellas...
> 
> PS> Next update will be this coming weekend, however seeing Thursday is Thanksgiving (U.S.), I may post a new chapter on that day.
> 
> Many thanks for the comments, kudos and your endless support! :)

Chapter 6

John looked at his friend dumbfounded. Did he really hear what the man just said?

‘What…?’ he squeaked, in utter shock.

Dave went into explanation as to what Marco demanded, to spare his and Clara’s life.

‘Where are you going to find five grand to pay him every month, if you can’t even find a couple hundred pounds to begin with?!’ he reasoned.

Dave clutched at his head and began pacing. 

‘Why does he want to meet me, if I marry Clara? I mean, what good will this do? She barely knows me!’

‘I don’t know, John! But if it’s going to save her life, then I want you to be the one to take care of her.’

‘Why me?’

Dave scoffed.

‘Oh please, John. Don’t pretend I don’t know you’ve been in love with her for the past three years!’

He stiffened and ignored his words.

‘If I do this, I am putting myself in danger. I already loaned you money which I know I will never get back. Why must I now risk my own life?!’

‘Please… I’ve known you for years, John and you’re a good man… and I know you won’t harm her. Besides, it would take forever to find her a suitor and one that I would be comfortable with, knowing she’d be safe at night,’ Dave explained.

‘Clara doesn’t know me, Dave. How can we have a union if we don’t know one another or even have time to court each other… like she would have me, even!’

‘We’ll just have an arranged marriage. Clara would have to deal with it. I’ll tell her it’s to save us from our financial crisis and make ties with your family.’

‘She would refuse… she’s a smart girl.’

‘Yes, but she is logical as well. She would hate me for the rest of her life for what I am about to do… and I’ll have to live with it and be forceful and mean… all for the sake of trying to protect her from my mistakes…’

‘What if she tries to run? She won’t be happy with me.’

‘She’ll learn to love you, somehow or the other… I pray… so do we have a deal?’

John contemplated for a few moments and knew that what he was about to do, there was no walking away.

‘Fine. I’ll do it.’

Dave gave him a sincere smile and took the age-able man’s hand in his.

‘Thank you, John. Thank you so much…’

\----  
Over the course of one month, Dave had broken the news to Clara about her arranged marriage, explaining the reason behind the whole motive. She was furious and upset over the ordeal, but he kept coaxing that it was for their own good. When John had visited, and they officially met for the first time, she felt hopeless. Her future husband was nothing she expected him to be. No young, prince charming… just an old goose whose feathers were slowly fraying.

In that time, Dave planned her wedding at the family home, with his wife’s insurance money. It was the last bit of cash he had that was unborrowed, and he thought it best be used on his daughter, than to repay a debt. Clara had begged and begged him not to push her into doing this and had half a mind to flee the country, but she loved her father despite how much of a scoundrel he was; and eventually agreed.

The news of her mother’s death had weighed on her heavily and through the time she was grieving, she tried hard to put up a strong front, so no-one would see her pain and sorrow. Her father appeared to be unaffected, but Dave was dealing his part, grieving when the night came and knocking the bottle of whiskey hard.

Mr. Oswald had given John a list of things Clara loved, and had some of her personal belongings already moved into his friend’s estate mansion. The items included a portrait of her mother that she painted herself, all her easels and paints that she used to create her masterpieces on any given day she chose to work and her mother’s wedding ring, which John was instructed to use on their wedding day.

Two months before the official day, John was doomed to meet Marco. Dave had driven them to the glitzy nightclub and they were guided to the back, to the underlord’s office. He rocked in his chair and smiled devilishly at the two men, as they entered the room. 

‘I heard the good news. Congratulations, Mr Oswald!’ boomed the man with a vicious grin.

‘Where’s the groom?’

‘This is him…’ replied Dave, nodding at John.

Marco burst out laughing, as if he heard a joke. Dave and John looked at him, seriously. He stopped after a few minutes and realized they were not being funny at all.

‘You’re serious? An old fart is your daughter’s husband to be?’

The widower nodded, and John gulped hard.

‘Very well,’ he said and snapped his fingers at the guard stationed at the entrance to the office.

A few moments later, a man dressed in a white apron and surgical mask walked in holding a stainless-steel tray with gloved hands. The two men instantly felt uncomfortable.

‘I am a man of my word. I will not harm your daughter or you Mr. Oswald and I won’t harm the groom either, once we bind our little deal, here,’ he indulged.

‘Me…bringing John here was the binding of the deal…’ claimed Clara’s father.

‘Part of it but not the last of it.’

He nodded to the masked man and his guards grabbed John and splayed him across Marco’s table.

‘What are you doing?!’ screamed John.

‘Finishing this up and moving on with life. I bind my contracts in blood and as such, I need blood from you my friend.’

Mr Oswald tried to help his friend, but was restrained by another of Ramirez’s men. The man with the gloves set the tray down and to the two-entrepreneur’s horror, it was filled with surgical utensils. As Mr Smith was held in a choke hold, his legs bound by a pair of strong hands, one of Marco’s men grabbed his right hand and splayed his fingers onto the table. To his dismay, he watched as the ‘doctor’ took a scalpel and removed the nail from his index finger. He screamed in pain as Marco watched amused. The greying man managed to gain leverage of one of his legs and kicked the guard, holding the other. Marco hissed and slapped the future groom across the face.

‘Remove two of his fingers for resisting,’ he ordered, and the perpetrator produced a pair of wire cutters, snipping his middle and accent fingers off. 

The pain was excruciating as he felt it travel throughout his body. The men let him go and he pressed his fingers into the fabric of his jacket, to help stop the bleeding. Dave looked on in fright and thought he was next, but thankfully the heavens smiled on him and Marco ordered the men to leave. Mr. Ramirez grabbed John’s bloodied hand and stamped it hard onto a sheet of blotting paper. He then folded and tucked it into a box filled with similar pieces of paper, all covered in blood with varying sizes of other victim’s palms. 

‘Now our deal is sealed. You are free to go but… if you cross me again Mr. Oswald, you will not be so lucky next time.’

He took a seat and put his feet up on the desk.

‘As for you Mr. Smith, do not forget that I wish to see your wife sometime after you’ve been wedded. It may be soon or a while from now, but I will meet her.’

With that he dismissed them, and they were shown the way out into the dark alleyway, where their vehicle was parked.

‘You alright, John?’ asked Dave filled with concern.

His friend was breathing hard and bleeding badly.

‘Take me to the E.R., before I bleed to death!’ he growled in agony.

Dave did not think twice and they both dove into the car, headed straight for the nearest hospital.


	7. The flu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all the American brethren out there.
> 
> Firstly, I want to apologize for posting so late. I really wanted to have this chapter up first thing this morning, but I got dragged to my aunt's house for a thanksgiving lunch... and I just got back home!
> 
> Secondly, I promise you, that this weekend, things between John and Clara will improve... a smidgen. I know the angst is driving us mad, but they just need some time to get over the entire situation and get used to each other... if one gives the other a chance etc.
> 
> Thirdly, I am going to make two time leaps. The first is back to the present, two weeks after Clara fell in the river, after being thrown from Midnight and the second will occur in the next chapter... which I haven't even started writing yet...
> 
> Enjoy and I'll update hopefully tomorrow night or over the weekend!

Chapter 7

Clara sneezed for the twentieth time for the morning. Amy grimaced as the little lady blew her nose into a tissue and discarded it in the waste basket beside her bed. It’d been two weeks since she fell into the river, and was now nursing a bad cold. She refused all forms of medical attention proposed by both Amy and John, amongst the other caring staff of the Smith household. It was a bad idea, given she was still ill and worsened as the days past. She refused to have anyone, but Amy enter her room; only with the duties of changing the bin filled with flu filled napkins and tending to her laundry.

Clara lay on her back and groaned. Her nose was red, skin afire, face pallid, eyes watery and strength dwindling. Each time she sneezed, her chest hurt. Amy had tried to talk her into seeing a doctor, a mission John had put her up to, given the two women got along well. He figured that the maid would have more leverage than him, in getting his wife to do the right thing. They both grew extremely concerned when she stopped eating altogether.

‘Go away!’ she ordered with a hoarse voice, when she heard a soft knock on the door.

Nevertheless, John with his silvered head of hair popped through the doorway, wearing a bright smile.

‘Hey…’ he greeted, gently.

‘I brought you some lunch.’

Clara eyed him and then the tray he held with a piping hot bowl of who-knew-what, a pink napkin, a cup of juice and a bar of chocolate… Chocolate. She eyed the desert, carefully. Maybe she could have that and skip the rest of the meal. After all, she had no appetite. John seated himself along the side of her large bed and set the tray down on the nightstand.

‘You look terrible…’ he mumbled more to himself than to her.

Clara scoffed and rolled her eyes.

‘I need to take a look at you. Your throat looks swollen,’ he said, reaching forward to examine the area.

Clara batted his hands away and crawled to the farthest side of the bed, to evade any form of physical contact between them.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she warned, glaring at him with her large, angry brown eyes.

He knew this was going to happen and was mentally prepared for her rebelliousness.

‘Listen, you are ill and will not get better if you keep acting this way. You can’t fight a battle if you are unfit to do so. Let me take care of you, seeing you won’t let me carry you to a doctor or have one brought here. Get better and then you can continue making both our lives miserable, yeah?’ he bargained.

‘Why? How do I even know you know what you’re doing? You could’ve drugged the food for all I know!’ she hissed.

John glowered at how low she was stepping and took the spoon and scooped some of the soup he brought her, into his mouth.

‘See? No drugs. Just my good old-fashioned chicken broth.’

Clara eyed him carefully and then said, ‘You cooked…? You don’t plan to feed me with the same spoon you used, do u? That’s unsanitary…’

‘People share saliva and other body fluids every day, Clara. Get used to it.’

She grimaced and groaned as he tried to feed her.

‘I don’t wanna!’ she complained and tried hard to evade the silver spoon of death.

‘It’ll make you better!’

She leant back a bit too much and rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a thud. Mr Smith set the food down and tried to help her up, but of course she refused. However, she nicked the bar of chocolate that lay on the tray. John immediately snatched it from her hands.

‘Eat the soup and you can have the desert.’

She pouted at him.

‘No.’

John folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

‘I’ll make you a deal. Let’s pretend we’re not married and deal with this like adults… just for once, yes? You’re miserable and believe it or not, I’m worried to pieces.’

Clara sighed heavily and waved a white flag, temporarily. She really didn’t have much strength left to confront him.

‘Fine. But don’t expect me to be nice to you just because I am letting you tend to me,’ she growled.

He nodded and pulled out a stethoscope. She looked at it questioningly, as he pressed it to her back with a gloved hand and told her to inhale and exhale, slowly.

‘Did you get that from a kiddie toy set?’ she spat.

‘No. I was a doctor for twenty years of my life, before I moved full time into my business of selling medical supplies to countless hospitals.’

Carefully, he examined her throat and neck, lightly massaging the swollen regions. 

‘Well?’ she asked, expectantly.

‘It’s bad. You need to eat a lot of vitamin C rich foods and drink plenty of fluids. Have the soup and take these pills once after every meal,’ he instructed, handing her a packet of cold and flu tablets.

She nodded, for once not challenging his words and set it beside her bed. They both looked at each other, an awkward silence falling between them.

‘I’ve… prepared a room in the west wing for your art. Your canvases and easels have been set up. There’s plenty of light and your supplies are all there. You are free to use it at your disposal.’

She looked at him and folded her arms. Her face was written with a mix of emotions.

‘The portrait of my mother…?’

‘It’s there. I had it hung on the wall, if you don’t mind.’

‘Thank you…’ she said sincerely.

John smiled at her in return, glad for a kind word instead of the usual bickering. 

‘Also… I’ve instructed the guards to hold back and not to follow you around the premises or wherever you choose to go outside of the estate. However, one will accompany you, when you are out of the grounds, as a safety measure… I hope you feel less like a prisoner and realize that I do not wish to invade your privacy…’

‘It doesn’t help the fact that I’m still married to you,’ the brunette snarked.

‘Mark my words, when I get better, I am going to make you want to get rid of me so badly, a divorce will be inevitable!’

‘Well, good luck because by the look of things and according to your father, you aren’t going anywhere.’

‘He’s not the boss of me!’

‘Well, he got us married by arrangement, so clearly he’s got a lot of leverage.’

Clara gritted her teeth. He was right, and she only let him have it, because she loved him and thought what they agreed to, was for both their benefit. However, she regretted it to the moon and back and wanted nothing more than to be rid of the pesky, John Smith. She had it all planned in her head. When she was well again, she was going to turn his world upside down.


	8. Enough is enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we're jumping six months ahead... let's see how the future looks for the two 'lovebirds'...

Chapter 8

Over the next six months, Clara was a terror, rampaging about John’s mansion; wreaking havoc wherever she could. She wanted so badly to be done with her marriage that the tiniest thing she could find, was used to its greatest advantage, in creating mischief. She shredded all of John’s favourite chairs, spiked his meals with ridiculous amounts of hot sauce, graffitied his walls with paint, punctured his car tires, shredded his best shirts with a pair of scissors and everytime he held a meeting, she’d play music obnoxiously loud or throw a tantrum randomly.

John had had it and it was time to teach her a lesson. The only way she would stop, was to beat her at her own game. The maids called her a savage, but Amy came to her rescue during their gossip hour and reasoned it was her way of coping. Certainly, the red head understood the young Mrs Smith and knew in her heart, she was not a bad person. She had explained the same thing to Mr. Smith and was asked to keep an eye on her to ensure she did nothing irrational.

Lately she was falling into a depressive state and eyed the kitchen knives suspiciously. Suicide or murder, he was not about to let either happen and he ordered his staff to keep the cutlery under a watchful eye. She spent most of her days locked either in her room or the art studio John had prepared for her and cry. She had no desire to paint or do any of her old hobbies or work. All she felt was despair. 

Yes, he allowed her to leave the house, but that was no motivation to lift her spirits and she found her days dragging. Secretly she wished she could die, as the days turned into weeks into months. In time, she turned to the bottle and was discreet in hiding the liquor, especially from Amy and her husband. With her new hobby, John ordered all alcoholic beverages in the house to be locked away in the wine cellar and the key handed over to him.

It was the night of John’s twenty-fifth anniversary of business success and he threw a party with many counterparts as invited guests. One of the attractions was Jackie Tyler, a sharp-tongued woman who was infamous for her wit and tolerated little nonsense. She was perfect for Clara. The blonde and John were good friends and wife or no wife, if she tried to be snarky, Jackie was going to set the little woman straight. 

Clara grumbled as Amy helped her squeeze into a little black dress. She trudged down the long staircase, into the open area teeming with music and formally dressed individuals. She rolled her eyes and thought it was time to get a drink. John immediately spotted her from across the room, admiring how lovely she looked tonight; her hair did in a tight French twist, the little black dress hugging her body in all the right places. The plunging neck was a tease, exposing just the right amount of cleavage. 

He straightened his tie and walked towards her.

‘Glad you made it,’ he beamed.

She scowled and pushed past him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards his body, making it as if they were playfully flirting.

‘Let. Go. Of. Me,’ she demanded, in a deep, unamused voice.

He did so and asked in the kindest way possible, ‘Please be on your best behaviour tonight… I have work colleagues attending this party and whatever you do, will make me look good or bad in front of them.’

She smirked at his words and looked at him innocently.

‘Of course, darling,’ she said and marched towards the drinks table, to have herself a glass.

He followed her and snatched the bottle of tequila before she could.

‘Go light,’ he warned.

‘You are not my father!’ she hissed in a hush-hush voice.

‘Well looky here,’ came Jackie Tyler, ‘John, you have not yet introduced me to your lovely new wife.’

The couple turned around to see Ms Tyler grinning at them, wine glass in hand. John snaked an arm around Clara’s waist and tucked her into his side. She released a soft growl of anger under her breath.

‘Jackie, this is Clara. Clara, this is Jackie… my lifetime friend,’ he introduced, proudly.

Clara scanned the woman from head to toe, and said, ‘That is a horrible hair dye. Makes you look like a heifer on steroids and your ends are splitting.’

The older woman cocked a brow and chuckled, ‘Well one day my dear, you will have to dye yours and blonde will never be your colour.’

‘I hate blonde. Then again, blondes are regarded as the dumbest of our species.’

John’s face went pale and was about to apologize when Jackie spoke before he did.

‘Really? I heard brunettes are the ones that know nothing more than to lie on their backs all day unless they run so slack, their mouths are the only thing to save them.’

John was taken aback by her comment and Clara was offended and furious. She grabbed a glass of red punch from the table behind and threw it at the woman, staining her bone white, fur lined dress.

‘Jackie! I am so sorry!’ shouted John aghast, as Clara gave her a vulgar gesture and stormed off.

‘I think I took it too far, but seriously John, you need to tame that shrew!’ she hissed.

John ignored the crowd’s eyes as they followed him out the door, after his wife. For a person with short legs, Clara surely could move fast but soon enough, he caught up and brought her to a halt.

‘What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!’ he screamed.

He was done. She was driving him insane and there was so much of her childish behaviour he could handle.

‘Did you not hear what she told me?! It was rude and disrespectful!’ Clara screamed back at him.

‘That’s not the point! Was your comment even necessary and don’t get me started with throwing the drink at her!’

She folded her arms and flared her nostrils.

‘What are you going to do about it, Mr Smith?’ she challenged.

‘You are going to apologize, is what you are going to do! Right this minute!’

‘Over my dead body!’

‘What exactly do I have to do, to make you be nice to someone Clara? Especially me?’

‘A divorce,’ she deadpanned.

‘Not. Happening.’

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she slapped him across the face. He looked at her surprised.

‘I hate you!’ she screamed.

He grabbed her wrists and squeezed them tight, to the point they hurt.

‘You don’t think I’m miserable? Who do you think is responsible for that? Huh?!’ he spat, his eyes angry.

‘All because of you and your damn childishness! I don’t care if you hate me! You can do it for the rest of your life for all I care, but I have had it up to my neck, with your crap!’

The iciness in his voice, sent a shiver down her spine.

‘If you want to leave, the gate is right there! Feel free to walk away and never come back. I don’t care anymore!’

He let go of her and took a step back.

‘I told your father I’d take care of you, but clearly, I can’t because I married an animal and not a human being. Do what your heart desires. You are free to go.’

Clara looked at him wide eyed in the dim moonlight. He was deathly serious.

‘Have a good life,’ he barked and walked away.

His heart felt heavy and the last thing he ever wanted to do was shout at Clara. She really pressed his buttons this time and it hurt so much to say what he did. He quickly wiped away the tears that rimmed his eyes and regained his composure before setting foot into the event hall, once again.

\----  
It was almost midnight when John wished the last guest good night and a safe journey home. He felt guilty for shouting at his wife and wanted nothing more than to apologize for earlier. He visited her room, searched the house and even the premises, but she was nowhere to be found. Worry washed over him, and he wondered if she truly left. He had told the guards to leave her be and not to follow her if she did… a grave mistake on his part.

He called Dave’s mobile which went unanswered, asked the neighbours if they saw her walk or drive by, but no-one knew. He began to panic and racked his brain for places she could’ve gone. Maybe a friend’s? No, she had no friends her father had said. They had all distanced themselves after her mother died, so that was not an option. Her family home perhaps? It was worth a try and when he drove into the Oswald’s compound, the house was black as night. Not a single light on and nobody was there to answer the door.

He felt sick to his stomach. What if something happened to her? The old fellow sank into the driver’s seat of his vehicle and yelled. He was such an idiot! At the corner of his eye, he noticed a row of rose bushes under the street light and then it occurred to him… Clara’s mother planted those flowers… maybe Clara went to visit her? It was the only option he had. He pedalled the gas and drove to the cemetery, hoping he was right and right he was. As he ran up to the lot she was buried, he recognized the small figure, slumped beside the gravestone.

‘Clara…?’ he called carefully, as he slowly approached the gravesite.

He heard soft sobs and knelt forward, resting his hand atop his wife’s.

‘Clara? Darling?’

She slowly raised her head and watched him sorrowfully, the tears glistening off her cheeks in the pale moonlight.

‘I’m so sorry…’ he whispered.

She shuddered as fresh tears spilled onto her face and without thinking, he pulled her into a warm embrace. For the first time, she did not fight him as he wrapped his long limbs around her tightly and stroked her hair.

‘It’s going to be okay… I’m sorry about earlier.’

The little lady rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably, as her husband attempted to comfort her. When she simmered down, he wrapped his jacket around her tiny frame and helped her into the passenger’s seat of his car. As they drove back to their home, he constantly stole glances at the beautiful young woman, as she curled up, fast asleep. Upon arrival, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her room, removed her shoes and tucked her into bed. He sat at her bedside, staring at her for a few moments, and with a daring move, placed a soft kiss to her lips and told her he loved her and how glad he felt that she was safe, before exiting the room.


	9. An attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, my... let's see what's happened after events of the night before.

Chapter 9

Clara looked at her reflection in the mirror and groaned. Bags under her eyes, cheeks hollow and the clothes that once fit so perfectly now hung loosely from her shoulders. She’d lost a lot of weight in the past six months and the effects were clearly visible now. Her mental and physical well-being wavered and after that episode last night, she weighed whether it was worth continuing to be a pain in the arse. All she remembered was the fight they had, John telling her she was free to go and then catching a cab to the cemetery. Everything else was a blur. She knew John had found her eventually, and apologized… and she was so broken at that point when he hugged her, resisting was not worth the effort. The notion of him trying to comfort her was appreciated… though she would never tell him that.

Anything that happened after that, she was unable to recall but given she woke up in last night’s dress and the blanket pulled up to her chin, she figured Mr. Smith must’ve brought her to her room and laid her down for the night. All this time, trying to make his life a living hell and all he had done was be kind to her. She missed her mother terribly, the situation that was currently her life weighed heavily upon her, losing people she believed were friends left her alone and to top it all off; her father had not once showed his face since she said her vows. She wondered if this charade was for nothing, given she seemed to be the one suffering and not him. But then again, John was also suffering too. 

God knew how he felt, married to a woman who was old enough to be his daughter. The gossip surrounding them must be quite popular, she thought. For the first time, she felt sorry for him and not herself. If he were an evil or mean person, he’d have already touched her and perhaps abused her on both verbal and physical levels. She leant against the sink and felt guilty of everything she’d said and done to him. Last night was quite the lesson she learned. She’d never seen him so angry and it was unnerving. The gentle, always calm and poised man had fire and rage in those turquoise coloured eyes. Maybe it was time she stopped and behave more like an adult and less childish as he had put it. After all, he made it clear a divorce was imminent and because she cared much about her family, especially her dirtbag father’s good name, she wouldn’t press the matter any longer.

John Smith, no matter what she did or tried to call him, was legally her husband. It was the reality she was going to have to get accustomed to and live with from now on. No more moping or creating mischief. Maybe it’d help her cope better with the grief of her late mother and perhaps being nice, would even lift her spirits. That would however be a tough pill to swallow, given she was quite a proud, bratty individual. She promised herself she’d try and hoped to the almighty that she didn’t mess things up more than it already was. Firstly, she should apologize for all her actions, especially last night. Maybe that could perhaps mend a tiny fraction of the rift she built between them. However, the brunette just prayed he was in a good mood and would be willing to hear her out.

\---

John bit into his buttery toast and sighed in delight at the savoury taste. The sound of approaching footsteps made him look up from the current paper he was reading and to his surprise, Clara stood before him, fidgeting with her fingers.

‘Clara…’ he said in surprise.

‘Is everything… alright?’

She had never visited him during breakfast and despite it was a pleasant sight to see her, he grew a tad uncomfortable. Was something wrong?

‘I-I’m fine…’ she replied, eyes locked on her fidgeting fingers.

‘Are you sure? How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Good…’

He nodded and set his papers down. 

‘Would you… like some breakfast?’

She had half a mind to say no, but thought better of it and agreed, taking the seat beside him. John furrowed his brows. This was weird. Her behaviour was weird. He watched as she buttered her toast and bit into it without a care in the world.

‘It’s impolite to stare,’ she snarked.

There it was. That sounded more like her. He gave a small smile and resumed eating.

‘Any plans for the day?’ she asked, grabbing a bagel this time and smothering it with strawberry jelly.

John frowned, watching her stuff her mouth with the floury dough.

‘Yes… I actually have a meeting with Jackie, today…’

She looked up at him and met his questioning gaze.

‘Okay.’

John blinked and scratched his head, ‘Okay, you’re scaring me. Did you hit your head in the shower this morning?’

‘No,’ she simply said, mouth full of food.

He watched her suspiciously.

‘You’re being nice… and you’re having breakfast with me.’

‘If you want me to leave, I ca-‘

‘No!’ he shouted, making her jump.

‘Sorry… I mean, no. Please, don’t go. Stay with me.’

Mrs Smith nodded and took a sip from her large cup of tea. John did not ask her anymore questions for the rest of their meal, but continuously glanced at her, from below his brows. It was difficult to believe this was truly happening. She patted her mouth with the table napkin provided and leaned back in her chair.

‘Was it good?’ he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence.

‘Very. I can’t remember the last time I ate so much.’

He just stared at her.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

She glared at him.

‘If you ask me that question one more time, I swear to God, I’ll break something of yours!’ she threatened.

He rocked back in his seat, confused by her mood swings. One minute she was quiet and kind, next she was barking at him.

‘What is up with you today?’

She slammed her tea cup hard onto the table top and got up.

‘I’m trying to be civilized, towards you for a change!’ she shouted at him.

‘Shouting at me, doesn’t really change anything does it?’ he stated calmly.

She huffed and grumbled, ‘No… it doesn’t.’

‘Why the sudden change?’ he wanted to know.

‘Because…’

He arched a brow, awaiting her response. She pursed her lips and shook her head. This was going to be harder than she thought.

‘Nevermind,’ she muttered.

‘Thank you for breakfast.’

John never got to press the matter further as she bolted out the door towards the garden. He thought it was strange and did not want to read too much into it. The lanky fellow tossed his papers aside and ran after her. Mr. Smith found his wife at the stable, stroking Sheba, lovingly. 

‘Who’s a pretty girl?’ she asked the horse, gently stroking its cheek.

Midnight neighed at her and she chuckled, ‘You’re a handsome boy, too. Don’t you worry.’

John watched from a few feet away, as Wilfred handed her a bag of apples and she fed them, giggling happily. She looked lovely when she smiled. That cute dimple she had, popping up whenever she laughed out. Wilfred noticed the master and was about to call to him, but John immediately shook his head. The older male quickly understood, and the silvered entrepreneur slowly backed away. As he headed towards the house, he grinned at the thought of Clara smiling but was saddened a few moments later and wished that one day, she could smile at him, the very same way.


	10. Horseriding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! 
> 
> Let's see what transpires for our favourite couple, shall we?

Chapter 10

‘How’s the wife?’ asked Jackie over the phone, as John tidied his office desk.

‘I don’t know,’ he said with a defeated sigh.

‘What do you mean you don’t know?!’

‘I think she tried to be nice to me the other day. She had breakfast with me, which she never does and on top of that, I think there was something on her mind, but she never said it.’

‘Any idea what it might have been?’

‘No.’

‘Well did you confront her, about it?’ his friend badgered.

‘I left it alone. She’ll tell me when the time is right I guess.’

‘And you’re sure of that?’

He didn’t reply and there was a frustrated groan from the other line.

‘Look, I’m sure she learnt her lesson from the other night and she probably wanted to admit it, but like a typical woman, she won’t say she was wrong. Problem solved!’

‘I suppose so… She likes the horses though…’ 

‘And?’

‘She was… smiling,’ he said softly, reminiscing on how happy she looked.

‘Well, then there’s hope. She isn’t completely obliterated by the entire marriage and you got time to work your way into her pretty little heart!’

John rolled his eyes and tried to reason with his friend that Clara would hate him for eternity, but she held up her opposing side of the argument. It’d be hard to think Clara would fall in love with John, but he knew for a fact, that despite everything, he was falling more in love with her, each passing day.

‘Give her time. Spend time with her! You need to get to know her! That’s how you grow in a relationship, you dinosaur,’ the blonde scolded.

‘If she drives you away, then try harder next time, till she learns to accept you won’t give up and want to be part of her life! It’s what I did when my husband and I were courting.’

‘You mean, when you were courting your husband, Jackie. Phillip was not into you, period.’

She gave an ominous cackle, ‘Yeah but he learned to love me eventually. He was the one who proposed, after all!’

John laughed and wished her a good day before hanging up. Her idea was not so bad and hey, it might even work. The grandfather clock chimed, and he looked at the time. Two-thirty in the afternoon. Before he could take care of his wife, he had matters to discuss with his father-in-law.

\---

Dave Oswald opened the door in a drunken stupor, half naked with a young woman dressed in his shirt, lounging on the couch in the background. The scene instantly struck a nerve and John grabbed him by his vest and jacked him up against the wall.

‘What the fuck is this?!’ he screamed at the man.

Dave winced and the company he had, immediately grabbed her things and fled.

‘Can’t a man enjoy himself?’ he defended.

‘Your wife just died and you’re screwing around? You haven’t even paid Clara a visit since we got married! Do you have any idea how lonely she’s been?’

‘She’s a strong girl and hates my guts. Me not showing up, will be a good thing and how can she be lonely? She’s got you!’

John rammed him into the opposite wall and shouted,’ I hear her cry day and night, wishing her mother was still alive. At least, let pay her a visit, despite the venom between you two! She might actually appreciate it!’

He let the much shorter man go and watched as he slumped to the ground.

‘Clara is better off without me, John… By the way, I need that five grand to pay Marco tomorrow. I got no cash…’

‘Because you spent it on the whore, earlier? And gambled the rest away, right?’ he spat.

‘N-no! That was my money…’

‘I gave you a cheque to pay Marco for this month two weeks ago, Dave. You spent it on yourself!’

Dave went on his knees.

‘Please John, you know me paying him, is to ensure he leaves us alone… please…’

Mr Smith felt sick to his stomach. Clara’s father would never change, and he knew it.

‘I’m only doing this, because of Clara. If not for her, I’d let you rot in hell and still have my fingers!’ he roared and threw a new cheque at him.

‘If you spend it on wine and women again, I will personally go to Marco and if it costs me my hand, I’ll bargain to have me and Clara completely out of his reach!’

Dave crawled after his friend, but he didn’t make it far, as the door was slammed shut, inches away from his reach. His addiction was bad, and he couldn’t help it. He tried hard to resist but it was difficult beyond words.

\---

John stormed into his home, in a foul mood. The help quickly dissipated, when they sensed his presence and frame of mind. He tossed his briefcase into the corner of his bedroom and let himself fall onto the bed. His head hurt, and he felt stressed. Maybe a nap would do the trick, to ease the throbbing in his temples. The galloping of hooves, followed by loud laughter caught his attention and he rushed to the window to see what it was.

Atop Midnight, was Clara laughing happily as Wilfred tried to capture a rogue Sheba, who was running in wide circles around them. He focused on her smiling face and his heart felt light. She looked happy. Even if it were for a moment, she glowed with joy. He watched as Wilfred threw a lasso at the horse, but was unsuccessful in capturing it. Clara had her hand at it and missed, easily. Sheba was a handful and there was only one person she would listen to. He quickly found himself outside and greeted them, with a broad grin. Clara’s smile faded, but her eyes looked alive. 

‘Sheba’s pen was unlatched, and she broke free, sir. Trying to get her back, but she’s being stubborn as usual!’ explained Wilfred.

John nodded, but his eyes were transfixed on Clara, who was having a ball, chasing after the graceful creature. The owner of the estate, shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled, loudly. The horse perked her ears and instantly came running toward him.

‘Atta girl,’ he said, stroking her face.

‘You have a special call, for her?’ asked his wife, completely intrigued.

‘Yep. I have a whistle for each horse. Each one unique.’

‘What’s Midnight’s?’ 

‘Ride with me a bit and I’ll tell you,’ he bargained, hopefully.

Without hesitation, she agreed and waited for him, as Wilfred bridled the horse and saddled her. Mr Smith clicked his tongue and Sheba began trotting. Clara imitated him, and Midnight did the same, until the couple rode alongside each other. They rode in silence, Clara always alert and observing her surroundings. Her husband took them to a part of the grounds she had never been to before. There were stone walkways, lined with flowering plants and ornamental shrubs, archways made of wood and metal harbouring support for large vines all in bloom.

Clara looked at the scene mesmerized and smiled, as the fragrant aroma filled her nose. Butterflies of every shape, size and hue danced from blossom to blossom, creating a perfect scene for painting. Not too far from the structure, John unmounted his horse and his wife followed suit. He noticed her gaze returning to the archway, and suggested they take a walk under it. John watched Mrs Smith as she drank in every detail, every colour of the scene, as they walked. She chuckled softly as a soft wind blew, causing dozens of petals to tumble towards the floor; some getting stuck in their hair and clothes.

‘Do you like it?’ he asked.

‘I love it.’

He smiled to himself.

‘If you don’t mind… may I paint it?’

‘Of course. You don’t need to ask my permission to do so.’

‘It’s the right thing to do, Mr. Smith. This is your home, after all…’

‘Our home,’ he corrected.

Clara looked at him, the liveliness now replaced with longing and sadness. He wanted to wipe that look away and replace it with the happiness she displayed earlier.

‘You know, they say that for each flower petal that falls, a person smiles.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. See? I’m smiling,’ he said, grinning ear to ear.

Clara gave him a pained look and said, ‘Maybe it just works on some people, because I’m not.’

His amusement instantly faded.

‘Thank you for showing me this place. It’s beautiful…’

‘It’ll never be as beautiful as you.’

She wrapped her arms around herself and slumped her shoulders. John frowned, her back turned to him and was unable to tell whether she took his compliment as a good or bad thing. He walked around to face her and saw she was on the verge of tears.

‘Did I upset you?’

She shook her head and wiped her eyes.

‘Then what’s wrong?’

‘My mother… she’d have loved this so much. I wish she were here to see it…’

The old man felt nothing but sadness and offered her an apology nonetheless. They both remained there for some time, just sitting and watching the floral rain. Clara for the rest of the time looked sad, preoccupying herself with collecting each petal that fell within her reach and sticking them into a handkerchief she brought along; while her husband wished he could turn back time and make things right.

He whistled loudly, and Midnight came running towards them, to Clara’s delight. She tried to recreate the sound, but had difficulty in doing so. John instructed her to put her fingers between her lips and curl her tongue while blowing. The only thing that came out when she did so, was a big ball of saliva. The greying man couldn’t help but laugh at his wife’s expense. 

She kept trying until John took her hand in his, curled her fingers accordingly and then told her to try again. This time it worked, and Midnight responded to her call. She laughed heartily and then looked at John with bright eyes. Mr Smith granted her a charming smile, but her features fell, and she quickly mounted the black beauty and excused herself. He clenched his fists and watched as she rode off, feeling a tightness in his chest. Was this what it felt like, when one was in love? Or was it just his heart breaking?


	11. A visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I post on a few other sites and I've been getting some negative feedback on this story.
> 
> Please, if the story has disappointed you, I'd appreciate if you don't bash it and just stop reading, rather than telling me in multiple paragraphs what you would like to see and how it can be better and why the characters are stupid etc. It can be very discouraging and a mood bummer, esp when AO3 is the first site you open when you wake up in the morning to see if your readers are enjoying the story.
> 
> However, I know there are people who are enjoying this and it's because of you guys, I'm going to finish it! I do love reading your comments and they motivate me to continue writing and always put a smile on my face. 
> 
> This is not in anyway meant to victimize or make anyone feel bad, but I am speaking on behalf of myself and other writers who go through the same thing, like my friend dreameater1988.
> 
> With that said, here's a new chapter! I'm sorry, but you guys gonna have to suffer some more, because the fluff really kicks in... but I promise I'll make it up to you...eventually!

Chapter 11

Clara’s scream echoed through the house and John dropped everything he was doing and bolted up the stairs to her room. Without knocking, he burst through the door and the sight he met was absolutely amusing. Clara was in the corner of the room, dressed in a bathrobe, hair wrapped in a towel and in front of her, was the biggest tarantula he had ever seen. He burst out laughing and ruffled his hair. 

‘Help me!’ his wife shouted at him, her bare feet jammed tightly against the wall.

John smirked and decided to use the situation to his advantage. The good folk folded his arms and leant against the door.

‘If I save you, have dinner with me, this weekend at Jackie’s.’

‘The badly dyed blonde woman?’ she questioned, eyes darting between the spider and her husband.

‘That very one,’ he replied, cracking his knuckles.

‘No way!’

He shrugged and proceeded to walk out the room.

‘Wait!’ she called after him, her voice quivering with fright.

He turned around, his brows raised and a smug smile, playing on his lips.

‘Okay… fine! But if she gets on my nerve, I’m not going to let her off, easily!’

‘Once you don’t embarrass me or yourself in the process, fine.’

The spider moved toward her and she jumped, clutching the curtains beside her. He instructed her to move towards the bed very slowly, but whenever she moved, the arachnid shadowed her. He rubbed the back of his neck and offered his hand from across her plush mattress. She eyed the eight-legged fury, quickly grabbing hold, and felt him pull her atop the bedding. 

‘Was that so hard?’ he asked, a dopey grin on his face.

She pouted and nearly lost her mind when she saw the second tarantula mere inches from her foot, atop the covers. Clara mindlessly grabbed onto John in sheer horror and whimpered, burying her face in his chest. He held her tight and quickly gathered her up, exiting the room with her securely in his arms. Mrs Smith was shaking by the time he set her down in the hallway and still held onto the sleeve of her husband’s shirt.

He left her there for a couple minutes and returned with the two spiders in a small container. She stepped back in disgust, as John waved it at her. 

‘Kill them!’ she ordered.

‘They must’ve come inside to evade the chill air from outdoors. They weren’t hurting anyone,’ he explained.

Clara gawked at him in disbelief.

‘Your room’s safe now. You can return to whatever you were doing,’ he said.

‘There could be more of those things in there for all I know! I’m not going back in there!’

‘You can’t walk around in a robe all day,’ he begged to differ.

‘Yes, I can. For all I know, those critters may have crawled through my clothes or have babies in them,’ she argued.

John once again doubled over. Did his wife hate spiders, or what?

‘As your husband, I’m not going to let you walk around underdressed,’ he stated and dashed into his room. 

He later emerged with a pair of black trousers, a blue sweater and black hoodie, offering the items of clothing to her. She took them hesitantly and used his room to change into them. When she returned, John thought it was the most adorable sight ever. 

‘You look good in my clothes,’ he complimented.

He was granted a groan for a response as he watched her roll up the sleeves. Clara had to admit though, the clothes were comfy, and they smelt of his cologne and a scent unique to him. 

‘What about my hair?’

‘It’ll have to air dry, I’m afraid.’

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and stomped off, downstairs. Mr. Smith met her stuffing her face with cream tarts and chuckled when he noticed the filling smothered over her left cheek.

‘Tasty?’

‘Mhhmmm,’ she moaned, licking her lips.

‘It’s good.’

‘Glad you like them.’

He took his seat in his newly refurbished chair and read his paper, while Clara disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Hello?!’ shouted a male voice, making John look up from his article.

A smile instantly crossed his face, when he laid his eyes on the young man, with brown floppy hair and a big chin, wearing a red bowtie.

‘Robert!’ he greeted, shaking the man’s hand.

‘How do you do, uncle?’

‘I’m good and yourself? What brings you here?’

‘I had some business in London and headed back home. Thought I’d pop by and spend a couple days here. See how you’re doing.’

John patted the chap on his shoulder and was glad for the company.

‘I heard you got married. Congratulations!’

He smiled and nodded. Luckily for them both, Clara emerged from the kitchen rubbing her tummy, cream filling covering a few spots on her husband’s hoodie.

‘Clara! Over here!’ he beckoned, waving to her.

She mentally swore and walked towards him, arms folded tight.

‘Yes? She asked, sharply.

‘I’d like you to meet me nephew, Robert. Robert, this is my wife, Clara.’

Clara and Robert looked at each other and John immediately began to think it was a grave mistake. The way the two stared at one other, was nerve-wracking and a feeling of unease began to build in his core. 

‘Lovely to meet you, Mrs Smith,’ he said, taking her hand and planting a kiss to the back of her palm.

Clara smiled, and did she blush…?

‘The same here, Robert.’

‘Would you like some desert? There’s some fresh tarts in the kitchen,’ she ushered, placing her hand in the crook of him arm. 

John watched as she guided him across the hall and worry began to befall him. She wasn’t attracted to Robert was she…? He promised himself to keep an eye on them. Although he was happy to see his nephew after so long, he was anxious to have him leave, for fear of winning Clara’s heart. Another betrayal was something he would not take likely and God forbid it happened, it would shatter him. 

However, he had faith in his nephew. He was an honest man and prayed if the situation ever came to that, he’d walk away and not take advantage of the situation. Anyone could see Clara was beautiful and although she was calmer lately, it did not stop the fact, that she may have other ideas to wiggle a divorce out of him. She was persistent and still unhappy. With Robert here, she was playing a dangerous game. Of all the things she had done before, if she took that avenue, it would be her golden ticket… and he was certain she knew it.


	12. A turn of events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to extend a heartfelt thank you for all the supportive comments, I received about my dilemma with respect to negative and destructive criticism. I was pleasantly surprised to find so many of you are enjoying my work, despite the characters may not be written to a particular liking or style, but you guys read on nonetheless. It really brought a smile on my face and I felt happy all day at work reading your comments. A really big thank you once again and I love you guys!
> 
> Now for the story, I know everyone is nervous about Robert entering the picture... yes John is constantly being hurt but let's make Clara hurt a bit, in this chapter! The angst is driving a lot of you crazy... I know but again, I promise to give tooth rotting fluff and maybe some overdue married couple activities ;) No promises, but we'll see mwahahaha
> 
> On a side note, Robert actually doesn't have a big part in the story.
> 
> Bear with me a bit longer, but hey, it won't be long after til things may make a full circle!

Chapter 12

‘You’re quite a talented artist, Clara,’ complimented Robert, admiring some of her work.

She smiled and continued mixing the various paints on her colour pallet with a large brush.

‘You should sell these. They would make a lot of money, especially in London!’

‘If I could find decent clientele. I used to have my own art shows, when my father funded them once upon a time,’ she explained.

‘What happened?’

The little lady sighed deeply and set down her art equipment. Gracefully, she strolled to the large glass window and peered at the landscape outside. It was a lovely day to go riding, and they both spent the past three days touring the estate in John’s company, riding through the gardens and chatting of all sorts of things. It was the most fun she had in the past eight months and the pair were inseparable. John, whenever he got a chance would infiltrate into their little discussions, but their topics were of subjects he was unfamiliar with. Robert was well versed in the history of famous artists and paintings to Clara’s delight and the fact she had someone to share her knowledge and interest with, was exciting.

John felt left out, but ensured to have an eye on them at all time. He sneakily ordered a book on famous painters and paintings throughout history and studied it well, hoping when Robert left them at last, he could try to impress her with his newly acquired knowledge. Although he was uncomfortable that the two spent a reasonable portion of the day together, he appreciated that Clara had someone around her age to socialize with, rather than just the help and himself. She glowed with happiness the past few days, turning up for breakfast and dinner on time, eating heartily and constantly wearing a smile on her face.

‘You going to tell me?’ he asked, pressing the matter.

‘My father fell into some financial troubles and can no longer fund me.’

‘Why not ask, uncle John? I’m sure he’ll fund you.’

She shook her head. No. As tempting as it was, she wanted nothing from John, although, it would help her gravely in promoting her works.

‘Oh come, now. I’ll talk to him and see if he can do something!’

‘No. Please, don’t bother… it’s a long story.’

Robert looked at her questioningly and decided not to pry into the matter any further.

‘Ah! There the two of you, are!’ announced John, walking into the spacious room.

His eyes immediately searched for Clara. He scanned the room and noted the start of a new piece she recently began creating. She hadn’t picked up a brush since they were married, and it was good to see her begin some of her old routines, once more.

‘You know, uncle, I was just telling Clara how well her work would do, if she had them displayed in London. The art stores would buy her stuff in seconds!’

Mr. Smith smiled. ‘I’m sure they would. She’s a very talented young lady.’

‘Sponsor her!’ his nephew, exclaimed.

Clara shot the young man a dark look, and then turned to John.

‘I have no problem in doing so, but its up to Clara, if she would like it or not.’

Her heart leapt at his words and she wanted so badly to say yes, but her pride and bitterness of her current life held her from attaining the one thing her heart desired apart from leaving John. She never answered or gave a hint she was interested in the offer and the greying folk left his request, hanging between them. He slowly walked around the room and studied each of her displayed pieces, stopping at the portrait of her mother.

‘I wonder who she is,’ said Robert, thoughtfully.

‘My mother,’ came the answer.

‘She’s beautiful. You look just like her!’

Mrs Smith offered a weak smile and stood alongside them.

‘She died a few months ago.’

Robert offered his condolences, while his uncle watched them, carefully. It ate him inside, seeing her so attentative and kind to the bowtie wearing male, while he faced the sharp end of her sword. Honestly, he was jealous and wished she showed him the same courtesy. She always smiled at him and laughed, and she would deliberately, touch his hand when talking to him… which he assumed was flirting.

The big chinned fellow’s phone rang, and he excused himself, leaving John and Clara, alone at last.

‘I’m glad you’re having fun.’

‘He’s a nice person,’ she said, eyes twinkling brightly.

‘Yes, and it’s unfortunate he’s leaving us, tomorrow night,’ John threw in.

Her face fell, eyes growing distant. John racked his brain for something to say and then noticed a recreation of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’, Clara had done.

‘This is one of my favourites,’ he said, pointing to the painting.

‘You know of Van Gogh’s work?’ she asked, surprised.

‘A little,’ he said, smiling to himself and began explaining everything about the painting he loved and how well certain emotions were depicted in the way the colours and patterns were combined.

If he may say, by the time he was done, Clara seemed at least a tad impressed.

‘The little book you bought, really teaches you well,’ she commented, knowing fully well he was clueless with art and that he had been studying the little pocket book the past three days.

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Before he could think of a cheeky comeback, the married couple both looked alarmed when they heard a loud, terrified scream from downstairs, followed by thundering footsteps. Robert rushed in panting alongside Amy, her hands and apron covered in blood.

‘Uncle! There’s a wounded man in the living room! He says he doesn’t have time and needs to see Clara!’ 

‘It’s Mr. Oswald, sir!’ added Amy.

Clara and John looked at each other and bolted down the stairs. Propped up against one of John’s chairs, was Dave Oswald, breathing heavily and completely soaked in sweat. His face was pale, and he clutched his stomach, grimacing in pain.

‘Dad!’ screamed Clara, immediately rushing to his side.

She took his hand in hers and called him again. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled weakly at her. John was there beside her in seconds, while Amy and Robert maintained a healthy distance.

‘Call an ambulance!’ John shouted at Amy, before turning his full attention to Clara’s father.

Slowly, the former doctor removed the ailing man’s hand and stared at the severely blood-soaked clothes. With help from his wife, they eased his jacket and shirt off and his face grew grave as he examined the wound. He’d been shot in the stomach and lost a lot of blood. There was a thick layer of clotting and by the looks of it, he needed a blood transfusion and fast.

‘We need to get you to a hospital,’ John instructed, body tense.

‘No need… I know its already too late… That’s why… I came… here...’

Clara looked at her last living parent with teary eyes. 

‘Don’t say that!’

‘How’d this happen, Dave?!’

‘I didn’t pay on time…’

‘Pay who?’ Clara wanted to know.

John knew exactly who he was talking about. 

‘What about the last cheque I gave you?’ he wanted to know.

‘I gave it to him, but he said that because I was late, I had to pay double. I told him I couldn’t pay the extras and said it was okay and I could next month…’

Mr Smith shook his head, knowing fully well that Marco would do no such thing.

‘He shot you when you got out the building?’

‘Yeah… they were waiting for me by the car. First, they beat the shit out of me and then put a bullet in my gut… and stalled the car. Hitched a ride from a stranger to take me to the hospital and then tried to call you…’

He drew in a sharp breath as John pressed onto the wound, trying in vain to stop the bleeding.

‘Your butler saw me… in the street… and gave me a ride here…’

‘I don’t understand…’ Clara, said confused.

‘Who did you owe money to?! Who did this?!’

‘Calm down, Clara,’ John tried to soothe.

‘Don’t tell me what the hell to do!!!’ she screamed at him.

‘Dad! Who did this to you?! What are you hiding from me? What are you and John… hiding from me…?’

The two men looked at one another and then at the young woman.

‘You haven’t told her…’ Dave said, with a small grin.

John shook his head. His friend took his daughter’s other hand and squeezed it tight.

‘I know I have been unfair to you… and what I did was…wrong…’ he said.

He straightened his back and broke into a coughing fit, spitting out blood. Clara looked at the scene wide-eyed and clutched her husband’s arm.

‘Do something!!!’ she cried, desperately.

John knew there wasn’t much he could do, except try to stop the bleeding. His injury was advanced, and he prayed the ambulance arrived soon.

‘He can’t… save me… Clara…’ he groaned, breath growing short.

‘I want you to be a good girl… and stay with him. It’s the only thing… that’ll keep you safe…’

She shook her head violently.

‘Love her and cherish her, John. Promise me, you will take care of her. Clara… promise me... you’ll stay with John… and look after him…’

Tears rolled down her cheek as she realized what he was doing.

‘But I don’t love him… I did this because, you said it’d help you… us…’

‘I know. Learn to love him… He’s been in love… with you… for years… I’m sorry for everything and your mother…’

Clara frowned and before she could ask what he meant, he lifted a bloody hand to her cheek and stroked it.

‘Stay with John… he’s your husband and will… protect… you…’ he said.

Dave Oswald took John and Clara’s hands and placed them atop one another, smiling at them; before his grip loosened, eyes closed, and body grew limp.

Clara stared at her father in horror, her body trembling. The sound of sirens flooded the air and Amy and Robert ran out to meet the ambulance. The brunette watched as they took his lifeless body away on a stretcher, John accompanying them. She ran after them and jumped into the ambulance, flipping off the paramedic, who told her she should stay behind. Mr and Mrs Smith locked stares and John knew that he had a lot of explaining to do. It was time she knew the truth… and it was going to be ugly… especially given the current circumstances.


	13. I did it for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So there were two paths Clara's reaction to the news could take; good or bad.
> 
> Seeing as I suffered you through twelve chapters, I'm going to make her a reasonable and understanding adult and grow her out of the childish ways she had from before.
> 
> It took me a while to figure out how to slowly break the ice between her and John here and in a way, but I think you will see a sort of respect and maybe admiration between the two as you read on. They have both been idiots and they both know that. However, its time for them to grow up and Clara now realizes how much has been put on the line for her safety.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter and maybe we can see some love between these two really soon... unless one of them dies... hmmmm....

Chapter 13

‘What…?’ said Clara, her voice a mere whisper.

After the ambulance had arrived at the hospital and wheeled her father into the E.R., John took them to a deserted corridor and broke the news. He explained carefully and in detail, everything that had happened to her father, to him and to her mother. How her father begged him to help finance his debt struggles, covering up her mother’s murder, the bargain Marco made to spare their lives and the consequences he faced and suffered for it and most importantly… the reason behind the marriage. 

Her face was blank, by the time he was done. He felt a huge weight off his chest, but he feared now that things only grew worse. Dave Oswald… ever since he began loaning him money, his life had become a living hell and as he was now dead, it didn’t seem to brighten at all. He watched his young wife lean against the wall, her eyes fixed on a random spot ahead of her; mind distant. For once, he was at a loss, on how to comfort her. Should he hold her? Would she allow him to? Was she angry? At him?

‘Clara…’ he began, slowly inching towards her.

She did not respond. He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked into her field of vision.

‘Clara?’

She swallowed hard and looked up at him helplessly. Her eyes were red, and he could see she was trying hard to hold back the tears, but they betrayed her, as they slid down her face. Her small body began to shake and the first of the sobs escaped her lips. John opened his arms to embrace her but held back… and it hurt to do so. It hurt so much. He was afraid it would upset her even more, so instead, he lifted her chin and wiped the liquids beads from her flush cheeks. 

‘A-a-all th-this time…’ she stammered.

‘Wh-why didn’t y-you tell me?’

He hung his head. He was a fool and he knew it. It would’ve been best to have told her from the start than have her find out like this. However, his fear of her immediately distancing herself from him, before giving him a chance was the main reason, he hesitated. It was obvious she was in pain, grieving and wanted to get out, which was why he always let her have her space. Whenever he thought it were best, he’d try to communicate with her, but it almost always ended in a fight. 

‘Because… I was hoping you’d want to get to know me… and maybe even love me… at some point.’

‘If you’d said on the same night, I’d never have made your life so miserable…’ she explained, feeling completely stupid.

‘I understand why you covered up my mother’s murder. I found it odd they said it was a suicide, when I went to the police to dig in further… but my father had a bad reputation and you knew what character he was despite it all… yet you helped him… but why?’

John sighed and covered his face with his large hands.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he said, voice muffled.

‘I’m in love with you, Clara. I’ve been for some time now. I did it for you…’

‘Then why didn’t you say something?!’ she half screamed, half shouted at him.

‘Would you have believed me?!’ he hurled back at her.

‘You were suffering, and I knew! I tried and am still trying to ensure you eat, drink and live in the best of everything, Clara!’ he spat, eyes welling up.

‘I sacrificed my life to save you, because I love you! I didn’t care about Dave! He knew what he was getting into! But when he told me you were a target, I couldn’t, and he knew I had feelings for you…’

John began pacing the small area of the corridor like a madman, hands in pockets.

‘I lost my bloody fingers, for you! I put up with your crap for eight months! I watched you flirt with my nephew, and don’t think I don’t know you were going to use him to your advantage to press for a divorce, little Missy!’

She looked away. He was right. Clara was planning to seduce him and use infidelity to drive John over the edge for a divorce, but given the truth had finally surfaced, she felt sick to her stomach at even doing so, anymore. John was as much a victim in this as she was… maybe even more.

‘Then why didn’t you step in and stop me?!’ she demanded to know.

‘I wanted to see how far you’d have gone! Who knows, I’d have given you your damn divorce on the spot if I saw or heard from the maids you locked lips with him!’ he growled, eyes glaring at her.

John was angry and rightly so. It hadn’t been easy on him from the very start and she made things worse, so much more worse… All the stress he kept bottled inside for so long, masking it with a smile and calm exterior, but inside he was falling apart.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ he snapped.

‘I… don’t have anything to say… You’re right… I was going to do that…’ she replied to her very own shame.

Suddenly, she felt guilty and dirty.

‘I’m sorry, John…’ she said, softly, hugging herself.

‘I’m so sorry… I’ve been mean, rude and outright disgusting and stupid. I’ve hurt you and while I thought I was the one suffering through all of this… it was really you…’ the brunette said, voice quivering.

Mr Smith scoffed, ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. Now you understand why we can’t have a divorce.’

‘If Marco finds out, he’ll be sure to kill you and possibly me in the process. He already did your father a number… I don’t… want you to share the same fate.’

Clara gave him a sad smile. Although he said it, it was there she realized he really did love her, and she wished for the first time, she could feel the same way for him.

‘You know, the first time I saw you, you were eight. You were on a swing in the park and was crying because your mom wouldn’t buy you your favourite ice cream,’ he reminisced with a smile.

‘Your dad and I were walking home that evening and he had invited me over for dinner. We decided to meet you and your mom there and when you saw me, the first thing you asked me, was if you could touch my hair.’

‘Did I…?’ she asked, curiously and completely unable to recall that memory.

‘Yeah,’ he said with a small chuckle.

‘I picked you up and you had a blast running your tiny hands through them. By the time I got home, I had to visit the barber the next day because you tangled it so badly.’  
Clara couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I never recalled meeting you… except once… before the engagement…’ she said thoughtfully, a frown creasing her brow.

‘We met a few times before after that… the other time was for your fifteenth birthday party. I was in town at the time and Dave asked me to visit. Then there was the day of your very first art show, four years ago, your cocktail party which I allowed your sponsor to rent in my building and a few times we bumped into each other, but you never bothered with me…’

‘You’re like my guardian angel.’

He shrugged, rubbing his eyes. 

‘You always looked so elegant. Your charisma and natural way of making people smile was always attractive.’

Mrs Smith glanced at her husband, his eyes glued to his feet.

‘Do you… hate me…?’ he asked out of the blue.

‘No,’ she answered, without hesitation.

‘After everything you’ve done and knowing why everything has happened, how can I hate you? I did before… but it was because I didn’t understand anything…’

‘Thank you… I’m sorry things happened this way. If I can find a way to get you out of this mess, I’ll let you know and then we can be divorced. Deal?’

She nodded, although to her surprise, the words now seem to sting a little. 

‘What do we do about Marco? He killed my parents…’

‘He’s a powerful underlord. He has eyes and ears everywhere. It’s best not to meddle…’

‘Can’t the police do anything about him?’

John shook his head.

‘Not to my knowledge. He’s been around for years and although I have some leverage in the police station, its difficult to get a warrant for a raid. Besides he’d probably know of it, before it even happened.’

‘He can’t get away with this…’

‘He won’t, but for now, we need to be careful. He killed Dave and for all we know, he’s probably watching us as we speak.’

Clara suddenly grew afraid and her eyes began darting around the empty hallway, nervously.

‘We should lie low and pretend nothing happens for now…’

‘How are we going to do that?!’ she argued.

‘Just pretend we are a happily married couple,’ he answered, sarcastically.

Mr Smith leant against the wall and closed his eyes. He had no idea where to go from here. Clara knew everything now and she said she did not hate him… yet he had a feeling of dread. 

‘You need a break from Blackpool. Tomorrow morning, I’m sending you, Robert and Amy to London for three weeks. Take your art with you. I’ll make some calls tonight.’

‘What about you?!’

‘I need to stay here and clear the mess to protect your family name. It’ll be better for your mental health if you left the area for a while.’

‘Aren’t you afraid something will happen between me and your nephew?’ she spat.

‘Legally, you are my wife and I trust you… and Amy has the eyes and ears of a cat. She won’t miss a thing…’

‘You don’t trust me… but it’s okay. I understand… but I promise you, I won’t betray you.’

‘I want to believe you, but I can’t’…’

‘I understand,’ she said sadly. ‘I don’t blame you.’

A moment of silence fell between them and Clara once again, began to feel overwhelmed with everything. Slowly, she sank to the floor and hugged her knees tightly against her chest. She could really use a hug right now and as if he could hear her silent plea, John sank next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Clara leaned into his touch and before long, her face was buried in his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him, as she broke into a new fit of sobs. He kissed the top of her head and let her cry, rocking her gently. For once, of all the times he was given the chance to hold her, this one finally felt right.


	14. Destination London

Chapter 14

‘Do you have all your things packed?’ asked John, standing in Clara’s doorway.

‘Almost,’ she said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. 

She patted the area beside her, ushering John to have a seat. He happily did so, trying not to sit too close. The last thing he wanted was to invade her personal space.

‘I really don’t like this idea… I have a bad feeling…’ she said, softly.

‘You’ll be fine. I’m sending my best maid, and two of my body guards along with Robert, with you. They will ensure your safety and every need is tended to.’

‘What about… you…?’ 

He gave a soft smile and propped his palm under his chin.

‘Me? I’ll be fine. Someone needs to prepare the funeral arrangements for your father and if Marco pokes around, I rather you not be here.’

‘I should be there to see my father’s burial,’ she stated.

John agreed too. However, with the aftermath of everything, he thought it best nobody knew of her whereabouts as a precaution for any business her father may have left unfinished. London was the best place for her momentarily and it held great opportunity for her to show off her talent. Maybe she may even meet the right people and her artwork would become a sensational hit.

‘Would you like me to bring something back for you from my trip?’

He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye.

‘You. Safe and sound. That’s all I want.’

She rolled her eyes, knowing fully well he knew what she meant, but decided to let it slide. 

‘Clara?’ called Robert from the doorway.

The couple looked up in unison.

‘Sorry to bother you two, but the car is here. I’ll meet you, downstairs.’

John furrowed his brows and grabbed his wife’s wrist as she attempted to stand up.

‘Can we stay like this… for a few moments more?’ he asked, hopefully.

‘Of course,’ Clara responded and they both sat together in silence, staring blankly at her plain bedroom wall.

\----  
Mr Smith helped his little wife with her luggage; his heart aching, with the thought of not having her around for the next three weeks.

‘Keep her safe,’ he ordered his men, sternly.

He hugged his nephew and wished him well, watching him climb into the front passenger seat. Amy followed shortly after while Clara lingered at the backdoor. It was weird to say goodbye to a man you barely knew for eight months and yet, she felt like she was leaving a piece of herself behind. Despite it was going to be three weeks, she had no idea how she was going to cope. After all, making John’s life hell became a full-time job, but there was no need for it anymore. Maybe the change in scenery and atmosphere would lift her spirits and the grief she tried hard to suppress would eventually leave.

‘Call me when you get to your hotel,’ he instructed.

‘I will.’

She gave a sad half smile and stepped into the backseat, her husband shutting it behind her.

‘Please be careful…’

He bent over meeting her at eye level and smiled happily.

‘I will. I got Skype on my laptop, so if you need to video chat at whatever time, I’ll have it logged on at all hours. Just press the call button, alright?’

She nodded and they both looked at each other awkwardly for a couple of seconds.

‘Well um… have a good trip!’

‘Thank you.’

With that said, the driver started the engine and slowly drove down the gravel pathway towards the large iron gated entrance to the estate.  
When they were a few feet from the gate, Clara thought she was dreaming at first; but when she turned around, she saw to her astonishment, John shouting and running like a penguin with his arse on fire, behind them.

‘Stop the car!’ she ordered at once, the driver instantly mashing the brakes.

John ran up to Clara’s window panting and had to take a couple of minutes to catch his breath.

‘Y-You forgot… this,’ he huffed, handing her a small green box.

She took it and carefully opened the item, her eyes opening wide at what she held. Nestled inside, atop a cute satin cushion, was her wedding ring.

‘But I pawned this on our wedding night!’ she blurted in disbelief.

‘I know, but I got it back after doing some digging,’ he confessed.

‘Wear it at all times… as a precaution. Besides, London men are quite forward bastards. Can’t have them macking on my wife,’ he teased.

Clara chuckled and placed the item in her purse.

‘I’ll make sure to do so, Mr Smith.’

He pursed his lips, ‘John… please for once… call me by my first name.’

‘I’ve got three weeks to think about it,’ the brunette taunted, watching the silver fox lift a bushy eyebrow in amusement at her cheekiness.

‘Well, three weeks and I’m expecting that.’

They both chuckled at the silliness of it, but John could not keep them waiting any longer. With one last move, he ran his hand through a lock of her hair, pushing it aside, to press a soft kiss to her rosy cheek.

He quickly turned around and began walking away, without looking back. Clara frowned, her entire body turned towards him, his back the only thing she could see. As he faded from her vision upon turning the corner, she wished she’d given him a hug in return and thanked him for everything. With all that had transpired, it was uncertain if either may see each other alive again. She condemned that thought and mentally scolded herself for being so negative.

John waited til the sound of the tires faded and turned around, to watch the dust settle in the driveway. His eyes were red, he felt empty and was alone. His Clara was gone, and the next three weeks were going to be miserable without her. He inhaled deeply and headed for the house. The next three weeks were going to be long, but they were also going to be busy. 

‘Peter!’ he shouted, grabbing his briefcase from his office.

His butler appeared in his study in a matter of seconds.

‘Sir?’

‘Get the car. We have a funeral to plan and some business to attend to.’

The man got to work, and the last thing John took before leaving, was a photo of Clara. It was taken a few days ago while, she was painting, thanks to Robert. She smiled so sweetly at the camera and when his nephew had shown it to him, he loved it instantly. The greying chap stared at it longingly, before nestling it into his wallet. Three weeks. She’ll be back in three weeks… safe and sound.


	15. The distance between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got food poisoning and took a sick day off from work.
> 
> What does that mean?
> 
> I get to write you a brand new chapter! Yay!
> 
> Let's see how these two are holding up. Will London make them grow apart or bring them closer together?

Chapter 15

Clara peered over the balcony rail of her hotel room. London was a city that never slept and judging by the bustling sounds of traffic and commuters below in the late evening air, the lights of the city coming to life as the sun sank below the horizon. It was very different to Blackpool. There was less greenery, more concrete jungles and was far noisier. She took a seat on one of the small iron chairs provided and dug around in her purse. She produced her mobile and contemplated whether to text or call her husband.

She wondered what he was doing right now. Was he working? Sleeping? Out riding? Was he… missing her? Her throat bobbed at the thought. After the penny dropped on why everything was the way it happened, she found her attitude towards John made a complete circle. She was no longer mad at him, but instead felt terrified for him. What if one day he’d end up like her father, trying to keep her safe? The very notion made her stomach turn.

Although she hadn’t admitted it before, Mr Smith was a very sweet man. Somehow, she felt sad not having him there with her to her surprise. There was no-one to trouble, bicker with or have dote upon her. She really liked how he fawned over her. How his eyes would drink her in when she emerged for breakfast every morning and how they’d follow her around the various rooms or outdoors when they were together. She had to admit, the attention was nice.

She jumped when the phone vibrated in her hand. It was him. Clearly, he beat her to it and she immediately answered.

‘Hello…?’

‘Clara?’ came his husky voice.

A smile grew on her lips, the moment she heard it.

‘Hey. I just arrived at the hotel,’ she began.

‘Was about to message you.’

‘Glad you’re safe,’ he said happily, and she was certain he was wearing a dumb grin on his face.

‘Have you eaten, yet?’ she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

‘No. Been too busy to think about having anything. I just got back from the coroner…’

Clara swallowed hard. Of course. The mandatory autopsy by the hospital before a burial or cremation was a procedure she wished was not standard, but it had to be done.

‘Clara?’

‘I-I’m here…’

He sighed through the phone, his breath heavy.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘No, no. It’s fine… did you make any funeral arrangements?’

‘Yeah. It’s in two days.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, voice cracking.

‘Clara… please don’t cry,’ he said gently.

She sniffled and willed herself to calm down.

‘I’m okay,’ she lied.

‘No, you’re not and you know it. This is why I sent you to London…’

‘I just miss them so much,’ she sobbed, drying her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

‘I understand. I wish I were there to comfort you.’

The little lady chuckled sadly, ‘It’s alright.’

John racked his brain for something to say that would make her feel better, then it all clicked. 

‘Do you have your suitcase with you?’

She said yes, and he instructed her to open the front flap. Surely enough, she followed his directions and found a small stuffed horse plushie, being squashed between the pile of clothes from the compartment below and the makeup bag she had wedged next to it. 

‘It’s so cute!’ she squealed, picking it up.

John laughed and felt proud of himself.

‘I saw him at the store on my way from work the other day and it reminded me of Midnight. Thought you’d like it,’ he said shyly.

‘I love it,’ she raved, smiling softly.

‘Thank you, John. It’s very sweet of you.’

‘Keep him with you for company whenever you feel sad. It’ll remind you of home and that Midnight, Sheba and myself are all waiting for you to come home.’

His words pierced her heart. Was she really such a bitch to this man a couple months ago? Guilt began to consume her, the more she thought about it.

‘Clara? Are you there?’

‘I’m sorry John….’

‘For what?’

‘Everything. I know I apologized before, but I really want you to know how sorry I am for everything I did to you…’

‘I understand why you did it. There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

Clara bit her lip.

‘Anyway, you must be tired. Have fun for the two of us!’ he said and they both wished each other a good night, before hanging up.

Mrs Smith stroked the little creature and giggled. John wasn’t sweet. He was very sweet and kind. To show how much she loved it, she took a selfie hugging it tightly and sent a message along with it, ‘With my companion, Little John.’

\---

John stared at the photo he had just received from his wife and laughed. He was glad she liked the small gesture and was flattered she named it after him. Somewhere, he felt they were making progress and it was a nice break from the continuous banter they had since they were married. He set the picture as his phone wallpaper and packed up his stuff for the night. As he locked the door to his office and headed towards the parking lot, he was confronted by two large, mean looking men. He knew instantly who they belonged to.

‘Good evening, Mr. Smith,’ came that skin prickling voice.

John spun around, eyes falling on Marco wearing a feline grin.

‘I didn’t break the contract,’ he defended immediately.

‘I know, but your friend did and that my dear, Mr Smith is breech enough.’

‘I held my end!’ he said, desperately.

‘Yes, but Dave did not, and the contract was did, also involve you.’

‘My end was only to marry Clara to keep her and Dave safe, while Dave paid you off.’

‘Yes, but now that he is dead, I need the rest of my payment with interest and I am fully aware you were his sponsor…’

John in that moment thought about running, but where would he go? The police? He’d probably have bullet holes in his back before he could dive into his car. Why did he decide to let Peter off early and drive to the office by himself?

‘Let’s go for a ride, Mr. Smith,’ ordered Marco, his men grabbing the silver fox by each arm and lugging him into their awaiting vehicle.

‘We have much to discuss, including that wife of yours,’ he purred.

John felt his heart in his throat and was glad he sent Clara to London, knowing she was temporarily safe. However, he also feared he was at his end and was never going to see her again. How he wished he told her he loved her over the phone, before he hung up.


	16. Marco's tyranny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Happy Friday!
> 
> It was so cold this morning, I thought I was going to die. Being originally from the Caribbean with eternal summer and having moved to Texas this spring, I have to say... this change in climate is killer!
> 
> Anywho, I got home late and I know you guys are looking for your usual weekend update which starts on Friday.
> 
> Thankfully with my sick day yesterday, I was able to write this chapter... 
> 
> AgentLunaA, I'm sorry... but I promise to make it up to you and everyone else over the weekend, with ridiculous fluff!
> 
> Tchylle, hope you are feeling better now, dear. I know, cramps are the worse and I'm also having my share right now.
> 
> To all my regular commenters and readers, I love you guys so much and happy reading! :D
> 
> 'HUGZZZ'

Chapter 16

John was pulled out of Marco’s car with brute force and shoved into a small wooden chair. He knew this setting all too well and gulped as he recognized the man who had previously cut his fingers off, leaning against the wall. There was a small box nestled under his arm and he feared what it contained. If Marco wanted something removed from him this time, there were a couple options he had, and he prayed his manhood wasn’t one of them. However, he hoped he would not detach any part of his body, period.

‘So, here we are Mr. Smith,’ the brute said in a sing-song voice.

‘We need to seal our deal, else there will be consequences.’

‘What… do you want?’ he asked, warily.

‘Forty thousand pounds cash by the end of the week.’

‘What?! That’s impossible to cash that amount in two days! You know the paperwork the bank needs to withdraw such a deposit!’ John spat.

‘Yes, but I don’t care. You have the four remaining months plus interest inclusive to pay off your friend’s part of the deal.’

‘What happens if I refuse?’

‘Then you die right here,’ the underlord said with a smile and nodded to one of his men, who pulled out a hand gun, cocked and aimed it at his head. 

‘Also, that little wife of yours will be a widow and then, I won’t have to worry about macking a married woman. I can just… take her.’

John flared his nostrils at his comment, his temper instantly boiling.

‘You don’t like me to include her in our little chats, no?’

John glared at him, without saying a word.

‘Pay my remaining owings and call it the end of the deal. However, I still have not met your lovely wife. How is married life?’

‘Perfect,’ he lied.

‘I hope she’s around by the time I am ready to see her. Don’t get jealous if another man sweeps her off her feet.’

‘I thought you don’t mack on married women?’ he snapped, at the Spaniard.

‘I don’t, but I do enjoy the company of beautiful women… and you do have a wonderful specimen.’

Marco waved for his men to leave, and clapped a hand on John’s shoulder.

‘You may go now. I’ll send one of my men over to your office for the deposit.’

The curly haired fellow instantly rose from his chair without uttering another word and darted out the building.

‘Don’t forget! Every deal I make, I bind in blood Mr Smith!’ he heard the man shout after him, as one of his men, unexpectedly hit him across the head with a hard object.

He fell to the ground, the pain dulling his senses. He felt the trickling of blood down his temples, but had little time to take notice as he felt a foot in his side. John cried out in pain, as he realized what Marco meant. Of course, he would never let him off without harming him in some way. His group of men beat him to a pulp, before tossing him into the trunk of their car and discarded him two blocks from his office, in an abandoned alleyway.

The ground was wet and cold, and his body was numb with pain. He searched his pocket for his phone, but when he pulled it out, it was damaged beyond repair. He felt for his wallet and luckily, it was intact. The silvered entrepreneur opened it and stared at the picture of his wife. It was for her, he was doing this. It was all for her. He propped himself up onto a nearby wall and inhaled sharply. He felt along his ribcage. Nothing seemed to be broken but he may have suffered some bad bruising. 

As best as he could, he limped into the streets and walked in a tiny bar, the first place his eyes fell on as he emerged from the darkness he was thrown into. Thankfully the bartender was kind and called an ambulance to pick him up, sending him straight to the hospital. As he lay on one of the beds, his mind wandered to Clara, and he prayed she would be fine.

\----

Two weeks in London flew and Clara had a blast, advertising her art to various interested companies Robert had tied to. On four occasions they were displayed in well known art galleries around the city, earning her a great deal of exposure. She was so thrilled and wanted to share the exciting news with her husband, but each time she called his mobile, it went straight to voicemail.

Was he alright? She never knew him to ignore her calls unless… something had happened. She grew worried, the thought of Marco perhaps harming him in some way scared her to death. She had already lost everyone close to her. He was the last person she had and losing him would be so devastating, she could see herself being locked in an asylum for the rest of her life.

Maybe he lost his phone, she thought. She pondered a bit and pulled out her laptop. She had not tried skyping him yet and decided to give it a try. Patiently, she sat on her hotel bed and waited for him to accept. When it went unanswered, she began to panic. Immediately, she ran out of her suite and barged into Amy’s without knocking where she was met with an unlikely scene. Amy and Robert were tangled in each other under the sheets, both yelping in surprise and grabbing a part of the bedding to cover themselves. 

‘Oh!’ she uttered, for lack of a better word.

‘Sorry! Don’t mind me!’ she said and quickly darted out the room.

Well now, that was some gossip she was eager to tell John. The maid and his nephew… she never saw that coming but given how the two got cosy since they arrived at London, it shouldn’t have come as any great surprise. 

She dragged herself back to her room and shut the door, worry gnawing at her. The brunette picked up Little John and stroked it lovingly, staring off into space. The sound of the skype video call rang loud in her ears a few minutes later, and she dove behind her laptop to answer. It was John. She accepted his call and couldn’t help but smile when she saw him pop up on the screen.

‘Hello, darling,’ he greeted, waving at her.

She grinned and then frowned, taking in his appearance. 

‘Where have you been and what the hell did you do?!’ she scolded.

He blinked and then raised his eyebrows in question.

‘What do you mean?!’

‘I’ve been trying to contact you for two weeks and did you get a haircut?!’

He began laughing and raked a hand through his much shorter hair.

‘I did. Needed to take that hideous monster off my head.’

Clara pouted. She liked the fluffy curls and thought it made him look handsome, not that she was ever going to tell him.

‘You shouldn’t have,’ she complained.

‘You… liked the curls…?’

‘I never said that,’ she defended, folding her arms over her chest.

He smirked, realizing fully well she did but did not want to admit it.

‘I didn’t know you wore glasses too.’

‘Yeah, sometimes I need a break from the contacts.’

‘Are they coloured or are your eyes really that lovely shade of blue?’ she questioned, curiously.

‘They’re naturally the shade that you always see,’ he replied with a smile.

‘And you didn’t shave… weird seeing you with scruff. God John, you look unkempt!’ she hissed.

John cocked an eyebrow and pretended to be hurt when truthfully he was secretly loving the attention and it felt nice, knowing she paid close attention to him. When he thought that was the end of it, he watched her frown deeply, her forehead creasing.

‘What happened to your face?’

She pointed to her forehead, the spot she noticed appeared to be bruised. John poked at it and winced when he realized what she was referring to. Should he tell her? Keeping his encounter with Marco a secret was not going to do anything good, to their slowly developing relationship. 

‘I ran into Marco, two weeks ago…’ he confessed.

Her eyes widened, and he saw the concern plastered all over her face in an instant.

‘Are you okay?!’ she shouted.

‘I’m fine. He wanted me to pay off the rest of the money your father owed with interest.’

She buried her face in her palms and shook her head.

‘Did he hurt you, John? Please, I need to know…’

He thought about lying, but when she got home, she’d see the bruises and the bandages. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize what they currently had.

‘Yes.’

Her eyes began to well up.

‘Where?’ she prodded, voice a mere whisper.

‘Everywhere. His men beat me up. I was in the hospital the past few weeks,’ he explained.

‘I was discharged the other day and my phone was destroyed which is why I was unreachable.’

Clara said nothing, her eyes glued to him.

‘Clara, your silence is making me nervous.’

‘This has got to stop. Marco needs to stop!’ she spat.

‘There’s no way you can stop him, Clara.’

‘He’s hurting you because of me! I can’t allow that!’ she screamed.

‘It’s fine, as long as you’re safe!’

She shook her head, sniffling.

‘He’s taken everything from me. I won’t let him have you as well.’

John was taken aback by her words and found himself speechless.

‘I’m coming home. I don’t want you to be alone for another minute,’ she said determinedly and ended the call, before he tried to change her mind.

Marco was pulling Clara to her wits end and his tyranny needed to stop. She planned to go to the police as soon as she got back; and if they wouldn’t or couldn’t help her, then she was going to take matters into her own hands. She was not going to let him lay another hand on her John.


	17. I missed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this week is going to be crazy for me at work and I am unsure if I will be able to post any chapters during week.
> 
> However, I got a day off on Friday, so I should have the weekend chapters written and ready for posting :)
> 
> Now, how will John and Clara be after two weeks away from each other? Will they fight? Be cute?
> 
> Let's see!
> 
> Oh and would you guys like a Christmas chapter? If I time my postings well, I can have a very steamy or cute chapter posted on Christmas Day! Let me know if you would like me to do that and say whether you want steamy or sweet! :D

Chapter 17

Clara dragged her suitcase with Amy trailing behind, into the awaiting car. She was exhausted and determined to get home to John. The first thing the tiny woman was going to do, was give a good scolding for not telling her what happened sooner. John suddenly seemed like Marco’s punching bag. For God’s sake, he was no longer a young man and was delicate at this stage in life. If anyone had to hurt him, it should be her and no other soul.

The drive home was long, and she grew anxious, the closer they got. The moment the car pulled up outside the house, she flung open the car door and rushed inside.

‘JOHN!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs, looking around the large, empty living space.

‘Darling,’ she heard him say, and watched him limp across the room to greet her, his face filled with happiness.

‘Welcome home!’ he greeted, stopping a few feet in front of her.

She raked her eyes over him, accessing Marco’s damage. He was limping, so that meant he hurt his leg. There were bruises on his face, neck and perhaps more under his shirt. His arm was bandaged and there was a deep gash on the side of his head, she had not noticed before. Clara felt overcome with emotions and flung her arms around him. John froze, completely surprised by her actions. He eventually relaxed and slowly closed his long arms around her, resting his head atop hers.

‘Why does this keep happening to you?’ she cried, face buried in his shirt.

‘It’s the price for keeping you safe. I’d gladly sell my kidney if I had to, to keep you alive.’

‘You really are stupid,’ she grumbled, making herself comfortable in his embrace.

‘That’s what happens when you love someone,’ was his excuse.

Clara chuckled and continued holding onto him.

‘You smell nice…’ she found herself saying, aloud.

He stroked her hair, smiling at her comment.

‘I missed you,’ he said, swaying them from side to side.

Mrs Smith breathed him in some more, that wonderful cologne he wore filling her lungs, along with a special scent that could only be his own. The first time she smelt him, was their wedding night when he offered her his jacket. It had made her sick to her stomach the moment it wafted her nose; but now… it was almost enticing… intriguing… calming…

‘God, you smell so damn good,’ she commented again, pretending to be oblivious to his last statement.

‘Are you sniffing me like a bloodhound?’ he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

‘Uh… no’ she lied and quickly broke their hug.

She averted her eyes, knowing if she stared into his, he’d know she was lying… though she got the feeling he already did.

Eventually she worked up the courage to stare him in the face and that ugly gash bothered her greatly.

‘Are there more?’ she asked, pointing to the injury on his face.

He swallowed hard and nodded.

‘Show me,’ she demanded, folding her hands.

‘I don’t think you really want to… besides, I’d have to take my shirt off…’

Clara shrugged and waited for him to strip. John thought that would discourage her, only to realize she was dead serious.

‘I’m not taking my shirt off. I don’t look very nice under there.’

‘I’m your wife. It shouldn’t matter to me,’ she snapped and shoved him onto the couch.

‘Clara!’ he protested, as she started undoing the buttons, batting his hand away.

‘Quit resisting!’ she growled and straddled his lap, holding one hand over his head, as she quickly undid the rest.

For someone so tiny, she surely was a strong little thing. Resisting was futile and although he could’ve overpowered her, he decided to leave her be. She parted the fabric and stared at his lean, broad chest, covered in dark purple and blue patches at the ribs and stomach. Out of curiosity, she poked it and John instantly winced.

‘Ouch!’ he hissed.

‘Sorry…’ she mumbled, and opted for gently sliding her fingers over the injured areas. 

Her touch made his skin ripple in goosebumps. 

‘Are they bad?’ she questioned, studying them carefully.

‘Some will take longer to heal than others. I have ointment to apply on them.’

‘Did you put any on, yet?’

‘No…’

Clara climbed off him and asked where he kept the topical cream. She quickly ran down the hall, returning with the small bottle and got to work. With caring hands, she treated each wounded region generously and ensuring not to cause any discomfort. When she was done, she rebuttoned his shirt and took a seat beside him.

‘Thank you,’ he said, sincerely.

She nodded and then scowled at him, when her eyes fell on his hair.

‘I still can’t believe you cut it!’

He roared with laughter, till his sides began to hurt and promised not to cut it when it grew back without her approval. That made Mrs Smith very happy.

Clara took the back of her palm and rubbed it against his cheek.

‘What… are you doing…?’

‘My hand itches and your face looks like a scratching pole with the scruff,’ she said with an evil grin.

John scoffed and decided he was never growing a beard or even a hint of it again if he was going to be a human scratching pole!

‘Let me guess…. You going to comment on the glasses?’ he asked, jumping to the topic before she mentioned it.

‘It makes you look like a school teacher, but that’s fine. It just hides your eyes, is all.’

‘How so?’

‘It just… takes away from… that striking blue hue that just jumps at you, the moment someone looks at your face,’ she explained.

‘Speaking of eyes, I got you a gift!’ 

John watched as the brunette rummaged through her purse and produced a black rectangular box. He noticed she wore her wedding ring, but made no mention of it. He opened the container and found a pair of sunglasses. His face lit up and Clara knew he liked it. He put them on and it took all of her courage not to tell him how hot he looked. Of course, with the suave silver curls, he’d look even hotter, but she was never going to tell him that.

‘Thank you, for the present,’ he said taking her hand in his.

She stared at where they touched and frowned at the leather glove he wore. Slowly, she removed it without any protest from John and stared at the stubs, where his missing fingers once stood. 

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Not anymore…’

Clara interlaced her fingers with his three and have his hand a tight squeeze. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

‘I missed you too, John.’

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer; her face now resting on his chest.

‘You called me John before you even left London. I win.’

‘Shut up…’ she mumbled and rest her head on his lap.

He busied himself, twirling his fingers in her hair and she sighed in contentment, as he trailed a path along her neck.

‘I’ll scold you later,’ she yawned, turning onto her back.

Clara looked up at him with sleepy eyes and he couldn’t resist caressing her cheek.

‘It’s good to have you back,’ he admitted.

‘Don’t talk too soon. After I had my rest, we are going to talk about Marco, mister!’

He groaned, but maybe she was right. Perhaps making a report to the police would help but they’d have to do it very carefully. The last thing he wanted was word of his intentions to get out and have the underlord bursting through his front door, guns ablaze.


	18. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments!
> 
> I really look forward to reading them and they always brighten my day! 
> 
> So I had written this chapter yesterday and managed to find the time to tweak it a bit.
> 
> John and Clara's relationship is growing and we are all rooting for them (so am I secretly ;))
> 
> Enjoy this chapter and I'm sorry... Tchylle, AgentLunaA... you two in particular... please don't kill me!
> 
> *goes into hiding*

Chapter 18

Two days later…

‘What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do?!’ Clara screamed at the police officer.

John grabbed the feisty woman by the waist and held her back, before she smacked the man. Although he didn’t think she would, he was not going to take any chance; especially with the temper she was working up.

‘I told you Mrs Smith. Marco Ramirez or his men have not harmed anyone in the past few months and if there were records of it, we’d be sure to go and question him.’

‘No records?! What about my damn father and mother?!’

John tightened his hold.

‘Clara, Clara listen to me. There’s no evidence to grant us a warrant to search Marco’s premises, okay?’

She looked at her husband in disbelief.

‘Your injuries are proof enough!’

‘I have no proof that he did it.’

‘He’s right,’ added the police officer.

‘We can question him but for your safety, I’d say better to leave it as is. I’m sorry if he did indeed cause harm to you Mr Smith, but we both know the kind of man he is...’

Clara stared at the two men dumbfounded. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t… She snatched her purse off the table and stormed out the station. The little lady was so furious, she walked past the butler and headed down the street, amidst the bustling crowd filled streets. Her mind was a scramble of thoughts. 

The police’s duty was to protect and serve. Marco killed her parents, injured her husband twice and that wasn’t enough proof for them to arrest him. There had to be something she could do! Eventually, she stopped to catch her breath, her feet hurting at this point. How far she had walked, she had no idea. 

‘Clara!’ called John, a few feet away.

She folded her arms and leant against the brick wall of the adjacent building, waiting for him to catch up. His limp wasn’t as bad two days ago, but it was still there nonetheless. The gash on his face was healing nicely and the bruises were already fading, to her relief.

‘Don’t storm out like that again! I got scared when I couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer your phone!’ he rambled, worry on his face.

She didn’t reply, her face blank but eyes revealing hundreds of emotions she tried to hide.

‘You’re upset,’ he noted, scratching the back of his head.

‘I can’t believe they can’t help us…’

He pulled her into a hug.

‘Marco may have ties to many of the men in the station or pays them off, so he can do his bidding. It’s no surprise.’

‘Then what do we do?’ she whined.

‘I don’t want him to take you away from me too…’

‘Oh Clara… my sweet Clara… I don’t know. However, what can I do to cheer you up?’

She shrugged and looked up noticing they were standing outside of a flower shop. John followed her gaze and interlaced their fingers, pulling her inside the store. Her eyes lit up, the diversity of species piquing her curiosity and interest. John left her to roam the shop, while he placed an order with the florist at the counter. 

The little lady felt a soft tap on her shoulder and spun around. With a shy smile, John held a large bouquet of over a dozen red roses to her. A smile spread across her lips as she took it and smelled the fragrant blossoms.

‘Thank you,’ she said, tip toeing and planting a small kiss to his cheek.

Her smile soon faded, and her features grew serious.

‘What is it?’

‘Can you take me to see my parents?’

‘Of course,’ he replied, taking her hand and lead them to the exit.

\----

Clara placed a rose each, on her parent’s gravestones. John had ensured they were buried next to one another to her delight and she couldn’t thank him enough for his thoughtfulness. 

‘I miss you guys…’ she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

‘But, I’ve stopped being a brat and I’m growing up now.’

John chuckled at her statement as she spoke to the graves.

‘John is wonderful, dad. He really is and had you told me the reason sooner… or had he, I’d never have made his life so miserable… but he takes care of me and I can ask for nothing else,’ she continued, her voice beginning to break.

She felt her husband’s warm hand against her back and looked up at his handsome face.

‘I’m holding my promise to you Dave and I’ll never break it,’ he added.

They both walked to the car and were silent the entire journey home. The moment they walked through the door, Clara burst into tears.

‘Clara? What’s wrong?!’ asked John, concerned.

‘Everything!’

John frowned. Sometimes women just did not make sense, and this was one of those moments, but given the events of the morning and earlier, he figured everything finally crashed down on her.

‘It’s going to be alright.’

She shook her head violently.

‘No, it’s not. He’s going to take you away from me. I know it!’

John disagreed.

‘Marco’s not going to take me away from you, Clara. I won’t allow it,’ he reassured.

‘You don’t know that! You’re my only friend and family! If you’re gone, I’m alone!’ she sobbed.

The greying fellow shook his head, pursing his lips. He took the flowers from her hand and set it down onto the coffee table beside her, plucking one bloom from the bouquet. Gently, he led her to the couch, pulling her onto his lap. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and rest her head on his shoulder, crying her eyes out as he rubbed small circles on her back. 

When she finally stopped, they just sat there quietly, neither letting the other go.

‘Feel better?’ asked John, eventually.

‘Mhmmm…’ she responded, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

‘That tickles you know,’ he said, trying not to laugh.

Clara smirked and continued, digging her fingers further into the darker curls that covered the area. John growled at her and poked her in the ribs. She instantly jerked and tried to escape his grasp, but it was too late. He held her legs with one arm and poked her ribs again. She howled with laughter, trying to kick herself free and fell back on the couch, taking him with her. 

John landed atop the brunette, laughing along with her. However, the amusement dissipated, and they both grew aware of how close their faces were, where their bodies touched and how fast their hearts began hammering in their chest. 

‘Close your eyes,’ John instructed, taking a deep breath.

Clara did so, without question. She trusted John and after everything they went through, she didn’t mind him kissing her… If it was one thing London showed her; it was how much she grew to care for him. She hadn’t noticed it previously and before he even broke the news to her, she had found herself paying attention to him. 

Just the small things like, how his hair would be extra fluffy after it air dried when he had a shower, the black waistcoat he always wore with a white shirt when heading out to work, how he’d nibble his thumb when he was nervous, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and how they lit up when he saw her, the insane shade of blue his eyes were, how he read that book on history of art to impress her when Robert had all of her attention and how he’d bite his bottom lip when deep in thought.

The brunette felt something soft against her forehead, then her nose, mouth, chin. It continued onto her neck, across her chest and then stopped at the top of her exposed cleavage. She opened her eyes and saw John looking down at her, a rose in his hand. 

‘A petal for every tear you shed,’ he whispered.

Slowly, he pulled the entire rose apart, her chest covered with the petals, her eyes never leaving his. As if he read her thoughts, he inched his face closer to hers, their lips mere centimetres apart. She could feel his breath on her face and her breathing hitched at the possibilities that were about to happen.

‘Sir!’ called Amy, entering the room.

‘There’s a visitor for you, at the door!’

The redhead’s face instantly turned red, when she stumbled upon the married couple in the compromising position. Clara and John immediately assumed a sitting position, awkwardly glancing between themselves and the maid.

‘I’m so sorry!’ she immediately apologized.

‘It’s fine…’ he said with an embarrassed laugh.

He gave Clara an apologetic smile and left the room with the help. Mrs Smith followed behind them, curious as to who the visitor was. She was expecting a member of John’s company or an old friend. However, to her dismay, she saw a pretty young, blonde woman standing in the doorway. John clearly knew her, judging from how friendly they greeted one another. She watched him kiss her hand and allow her to take his arm, leading her into the room.

Somehow the entire gesture made her blood boil. She hated seeing her husband smile at another woman. Another young woman, to make it worse and she hated it even more that they both kept smiling at one another.

‘Clara!’ shouted John, trying to gain her attention.

She forced a smile and walked over to them.

‘Rose, this is my wife Clara. Clara, this is the beautiful Rose Tyler.’

Did he just call the dumb blonde beautiful, rather than her? She gritted her teeth, trying hard to be tactful.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she said smoothly.

‘Any relation to Jackie Tyler?’

‘Yes,’ she replied sweetly.

‘She’s my mother.’

Clara gave a sarcastic smile.

‘The resemblance and mannerisms are uncanny,’ she snarked.

Rose gave a nervous chuckle, John nudging his wife softly. He gave a random laugh to stop whatever next was about to come out of her mouth.

‘She’s come to invite us to their family’s annual weekend retreat at Gravetye Manor in Sussex to celebrate her parent’s thirtieth wedding anniversary.’

The brunette looked at the woman and her husband, carefully.

‘Are we going…? she asked, carefully.

‘You don’t have a choice! John missed out last year, so I made sure to invite him and yourself personally. We’ll send a driver to pick you two up this weekend!’ she said too cheerily.

Rose and John shared a few more words and she quickly went her way. Clara did not know why, but something told her she was not going to enjoy this trip very much. One thing for sure, she was going to keep a close eye on that gold headed twit and ensure she did not get too close to her husband.


	19. A hint of jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fridayyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> So I took the day off, slept till twelve, worked out to the poit my entire body feels like it is going to fall apart and then watched the Christmas special trailer... I can't tell you how much I am going to cry when he regenerates. I was so depressed after Clara's death in Face the Raven, not even Heaven Sent seemed to take away the pain, because we know they're never going to be together *weeps*
> 
> Okay, so I have another story in the making at the moment, which I plan to write after this one (it's going to be a medieval fantasy au). I'd like to say we are about halfway into the fic and I know we want things to progress with John and Clara. I have to say, I thought more people would have fussed over the near kiss... maybe I should make you guys wait some more and see how badly you want it to happen... oooorrrrrrrrrrrr make the Christmas chapter full of unhappiness ... hmph! ;)
> 
> Anywho, let's see what transpires before the couple heads off to Gravetye Manor. It's an actual place in England and it looks so fabulous. Google it! It's a five hour drive from Blackpool, according to Google maps.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 19

Clara grumbled, while she slapped the paint onto her brush and swirled the colours around on the canvas in front of her. Today, she decided to paint outdoors and given she was in a foul mood ever since that Rose Tyler showed up earlier in the week, she couldn’t help but think all sorts of bizarre thoughts. Robert’s contacts had finally gotten back to her after her stay in London and two companies wanted to purchase her work. They each bought some of her previously finished pieces, which she sold at a highly profitable price along with doing new stuff, upon their request.

‘That looks great,’ complimented John, standing beside her.

She blew the air through her teeth and bit her lip.

‘It’s not good enough.’

He disagreed and told her everything that was perfect about it, while she countered with everything that was not.

‘Sheba’s mane has flecks of white. Here it looks like a nasty shade of ashy grey.’

Mr Smith frowned and tucked his index finger under his chin.

‘I do see what you mean…’

His phone began buzzing in his pocket and he smiled the instant he saw who was calling. Clara furrowed her brows when he mouthed ‘Rose’ to her, before answering. The brunette rolled her eyes and continued her painting, while ensuring to keep an ear zoned into John’s conversation. When he hung up, she was glowering at her paint palette. They really were going to Gravetye Manor and unlike her, John was ecstatic.

‘I need to pack my bags! It’s going to be great!’ he exclaimed.

‘What’s so great about a manor surrounded by gardens? Our house is pretty much the same as that one,’ she tried to reason.

‘Oh, the ambience of that hotel and the surroundings are so much more different Clara. You’ll see it when we get there.’

‘Must I really go?’

‘Yes. We both were invited, and I would love to have my lovely wife with me.’

So, Rose is beautiful and I’m just lovely?’ she spat, folding her arms across her chest.

John stood looking at her for a few seconds taken aback and it didn’t take long for him to piece together what the problem was.

‘Are you jealous of Rose?’ he asked in disbelief.

Clara scoffed, ‘Of course not!’

He shook his head and pinched the top of his nose.

‘I’ve known Rose my entire life. I watched her grow up like you… in a sense. We’re pretty close, but not in the way you think.’

She didn’t answer. He bent to meet her at eye level and brushed the stray strands of hair from her face.

‘I love you, Clara. I just want you to know that,’ he reassured, staring into her large brown eyes.

‘I also love Rose, but like a daughter… not a lover or a wife.’

Clara blinked and looked away. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she was still going to watch Rose like a hawk. 

‘Fine… I trust you and if you break that trust, I will never forgive you,’ she warned.

He smiled and kissed her cheek, leaving her to finish her job.

\----

Clara shut the door behind her and locked it. Amy stared at her and the only exit to the room, then back at her again.

‘Alright, you know a lot about this house and the people who have been coming, going and living here for years,’ began Clara, circling the redhead like a vulture.

The maid felt a tad uneasy, the way the tiny woman was sizing her up.

‘What do you know about Rose?’

‘If I tell you… do I have your word that you won’t tell Mr Smith about me and his nephew?’

‘I haven’t told him yet, but alright. I can bargain with that… however… I need to know if you spread word about barging in on me and my husband…’

Amy cringed, and Clara knew instantly she was guilty. The brunette rolled her eyes and sighed.

‘For the life of me! Can you ever stay quiet about anything in this house, Amy?!’ she scolded.

The woman gave an apologetic smile and fidgeted with her fingers.

‘It’s hard… but I can tell you I am truly sorry about that and I wasn’t getting back at you for when you walked in on me and Robby…’

Clara cocked an eyebrow but said nothing to the last part of the sentence.

‘Anyway, details on Rose Tyler!’

Amy took a deep breath and lay all the knowledge she knew of the pretty blonde on the table. Basically, it was very boring stuff, entailing her life with Jackie who worked with John from the beginning of his success, how she played with him as a little girl and admired him for being a gentleman etc. Nothing short of helpful.

‘Thanks…’ she told the help when she spilt everything.

‘Sorry I wasn’t much help ma’am. However, Mr. Smith loves you and only you. Rose is no way in your league.’

Clara looked up at her. Bold words for a maid, but then again Amy was quite an extraordinary young woman herself and very likable. Despite her inability to keep a secret for long, she was quite loyal and useful in certain situations.

‘Thank you, Amy. That will be all,’ she dismissed, unlocking the door and waited for the lanky woman to leave the room.

Maybe she was overreacting. A good marriage encircled trust from both parties and Clara did indeed trust John. Rose… not so much but; if he did indeed love her as he had mentioned a few times before along with Amy, then there would be nothing to worry about. Gravetye Manor might turn out to be quite nice and why condemn something you hadn’t tried as yet? 

Hastily she packed her bags and headed over to John’s room. His door was wide open, clothes strewn everywhere.

‘Wow, never took you for the messy type,’ she commented, startling him.

He chuckled, hands filled with hangers of clothing. At the corner of her eyes, she spotted a blue Victorian styled vest amongst the chaos, on his bed. She took it up and examined it.

‘Are you wearing this?’ the pretty lady asked, curiously.

‘Yes. There’s a costume party on the first night. It’s a Victorian theme.’

Clara chewed her inner cheek, ‘I wasn’t aware of that. I don’t have a costume.’

‘I got you covered,’ he reassured.

‘Need help packing?’ she asked, feeling a sense of boredom watching him haul his clothes into the very large suitcase on the floor.

He nodded, and she began rummaging through his already packed things. John was a simple man, who wore plain clothes; nothing fancy or too elaborately coloured. Just the usual greys, whites and blacks. She took up a purple dress shirt and smiled, tucking it into his selected stash, along with a blue sweater that made his eyes pop and a cute black shirt riddled with white polka dots.

Atop the pile, he tossed a pair of plaid trousers in the mix. Clara immediately snatched it up and frowned.

‘No way!’ she grumbled, throwing it aside.

‘Hey! I love those pants!’ John complained.

‘They’re hideous!’

He grabbed them up and pouted.

‘Don’t give me that look…’ she growled, quickly turning away, before she agreed from the sheer cuteness he exuded.

‘What look?’ he asked, innocently and turned her around.

‘The cute doe-eyed look with that ridiculous side smirk!’ she argued.

John cracked an evil grin and threw her the same look again. She scowled at him, snatched the trousers from his hands and ran out the door. Thankfully he didn’t follow her to her room and she stealthily hid it in her suitcase. There was no way he was going to embarrass himself and her on their trip wearing that hideous thing. She was going to make sure of it… unless it acted as a repellent against other pretty, young women… then she might return it, if the situation called for it.


	20. Gravetye Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna suffer you guys just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitle bit more! Mwahahahahaha!!!!
> 
> The song mentioned in this chapter you can listen to here, just for a better feel of the atmosphere I wanted for the two idiots: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efra1YeB_cM
> 
> I think it as just perfect! You'll understand when you get to the part!
> 
> P.S. How badly do you want that kiss? ;)
> 
> I'm a tease, I know! I promise you, it's close... very close!

Chapter 20

John and Clara stood in the middle of their room at Gravetye Manor, staring at the king-sized bed. The married couple looked at one another, Clara feeling a bit unsettled, as she rested her suitcase against the wooden armoire. John sensed her dilemma and noticed a small couch near the balcony.

‘I’ll take the couch,’ he said flatly, tossing his luggage atop the soft cushions.

‘It’s fine. We can… share,’ she said.

‘Clara, you don’t have to force yourself. I understand you’re not ready to share a bed with me and it’s fine.’

She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, John…’ she whispered.

A soft knock resounded on the door and they both turned toward it, noticing Rose Tyler standing in their doorway.

‘Rose!’ John greeted, his face lighting up.

‘Hello, John and Clara…’ she said with a sweet smile.

‘The party is in an hour, so please be dressed accordingly. There’s a live band the hotel provided and, there’ll be drinks and snacks,’ she informed.

They both thanked her and shut the door, the moment she walked away.

‘So…’ Clara began, ‘What now?’

‘We gotta get ready…’

They both looked at one another awkwardly before John suggested he take a shower first. Clara agreed and helped him assemble his costume for the evening, before leaving the room, enabling him to change in privacy. When he emerged, she felt like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. He looked so handsome in his white tunic, blue vest and matching jacket and the top hat just polished off the look. 

‘Well?’ he asked worriedly, as she couldn’t help but gawk at him.

‘Handsome,’ she complimented, and fixed his cravat, before running her hands down the lapels of his jacket.

‘Make sure the girls don’t snatch you from me, tonight,’ she teased.

He laughed at her little joke and promised her that wouldn’t happen, before descending the stairs to join the party below. 

Clara had no idea what to wear for the event and informed John she had no costume. Upon walking into the spacious bathroom, she found a beautiful white off shoulder dress, hanging on the door. It looked more like a royalty type dress than Victorian, but she didn’t care. Quickly she showered and got ready, hoping to have a grand time tonight.  
\---

John was the social butterfly, many women flocking to him, either out of keen interest because he was wealthy or because he looked dashing in his costume. However, he nearly dropped his glass the moment his eyes fell on Clara, walking into the room. His jaw felt slack, his heart began to race at the mere sight of her. She looked beyond beautiful and he completely ignored the flock of geese surrounding him and met her halfway across the large hall. 

She smiled at him and he held out his hand for her to take; while Rose and her band of friends stood in a corner whispering to one another, their eyes glued to the couple. 

‘You look…’ he began, completely at loss for words.

She looked up at him, their eyes meeting and for a second, they were alone in the room.

‘John!’ called Rose, breaking the momentary magic between them.

Clara flared her nostrils and looked at the blonde discreetly checking her husband out. Oh, she really hated this woman and her temper rose as she watched her snake an arm around his and asked him to dance. John threw the brunette a weak smile, as he was dragged to the dance floor. 

He looked wonderful, as he twirled Rose around the marble floor, Clara secretly wishing she could take her place. Maybe she should be bold and cut in, but she was above that, and John was hers. Hopefully all the stuffed pigeons at the event knew he was taken.

‘How are you liking the party?’ asked Jackie, scooting over to Mrs Smith. 

‘It’s nice… thank you for inviting us.’

The older blonde lifted a brow, ‘No snarkiness from you, today? Well now, that’s a new one. Glad to see you finally grew up.’

Clara gritted her teeth but decided to play it cool. She had promised herself that she would be a mature adult. 

‘No and I’m sorry about our last encounter and that John and I were unable to make it to that dinner you invited us to a few weeks ago,’ she apologized.

‘It’s fine. He looks quite dashing tonight, doesn’t he?’

Clara smiled at the woman’s comment and glanced at him, swaying with Rose in his arms. A sudden mix of anger and sadness befell her, and she excused herself; ensuring to take one last glance at him, before exiting the lively area. 

It was cool outside for early October, a welcoming feel compared to the chill that was yet to come. She followed the stone pathway, tastefully lit with small solar lamps, eventually stopping at a large fountain. Clara sat at the edge and looked up at the sky. So many stars tonight and she had almost a déjà vu moment, as the scene almost reminded her of her wedding night. Her mind drowned in a sea of thoughts; flashes of her parents, life before her marriage, Marco’s tyranny and John’s smiling face. 

‘Clara?’ called John making his way toward her.

‘Over here,’ she waved, straightening her posture.

‘Everything alright?’ he asked, taking a seat beside her.

‘Yeah… just fine…’ she said softly, eyes fixed on the starry sky.

‘I thought you were dancing with Rose…’

‘I was and if I gave her the chance, she’d dance with me all night.’

‘So why aren’t you in there, doing that? You two look quite happy in each other’s arms,’ she spat.

John ignored her jealous comment and looked up at the scene above, ‘I wanted to dance with you.’

Clara glanced at him and pouted. The last time they danced, she had wanted it to be done quickly, but now… she wanted nothing more.

‘Come with me,’ he said out of the blue, pulling her to her feet. 

‘Where are we going?’

‘You’ll see. Trust me, you’ll love it!’

Surely enough, his words were true. He had taken them to a secluded area of the gardens, with a large pond filled with numerous white swans. On one side, there was a boardwalk that led to a dimly lit gazebo, situated in the middle of the water body. They both looked at each other and giggled like little school children, holding hands as they ran across the wooden walkway.

‘How about that dance?’ he asked, extending his hand to her, the second they stood under the gazebo.

‘There’s no music,’ she begged to differ.

He whipped out his phone, scanned through his playlist and set it down onto the bench. Clara gasped, as the first notes to the song began to play.

‘Fields of barley by Sting… covered by 2cellos,’ John said with a grin.

‘Our wedding song…’ Mrs Smith whispered, nostalgically. 

‘So?’ he questioned, hand still held towards her.

Clara smiled brightly and took it, interlacing their fingers with one hand, while the other was carefully placed on John’s shoulder, his on her waist. They swayed to the music, never breaking eye contact. She giggled happily when he twirled her around a few times, and then pulled her close; their bodies touching lightly. When the song ended, Clara closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. Their arms were wrapped tightly around each other in a warm embrace, as they continued swaying in silence. At that moment, they didn’t care if anyone was looking for them, because they were where they needed to be; alone, with one another and undeniably happy.


	21. What happens at breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just leave me a comment when you're done with this chapter *whistles*

Chapter 21

‘My back is killing me,’ whined John the next morning, at breakfast.

‘I did say we could’ve shared the bed,’ Clara scolded, stuffing her mouth with a piece of hot toast and butter.

The couple had danced the night away, holding one another till their arms were tired. Eventually it grew cold and Clara began sniffling, so John opted they return indoors. When they arrived back at the hall, the place was empty. The musicians were gone and only two glasses of champagne were left at the bar. They both drank it and headed back to their room, taking turns to shower and change into their pyjamas.

Clara remembered laughing hard at his question mark underpants, he matched so conveniently with a white t shirt. 

‘Are your nether regions a mystery?’ she had asked, before falling back onto the bed, howling with laughter.

He sulked all night at her comment and went straight to bed. Now, they sat at the breakfast buffet, with Clara indirectly telling him, I told you so. 

‘Good morning, John!’ greeted Rose, taking a seat on the opposite side of him.

‘I didn’t see you after our dance, last night. Was everything alright?’

Clara narrowed her eyes at the young twit and John nudged her with his foot, below the table. She side-eyed him, knowing he was aware of her growing temper.

‘I’m sorry, Rose. Clara left the hall and I went to find her,’ he simply replied, smiling sweetly at her.

‘Do you have a man, Rose?’ asked Mrs Smith, kindly.

‘No. Not now… but I do hope to find the right one someday…’ she remarked, staring at the silver fox beside her, dreamily.

The brunette glared at her and huffed in annoyance, as she began twirling a lock of her golden hair. John casually placed his large hand over his wife’s and squeezed it. 

‘Can you pass me the butter?’ Rose asked, placing a slice of toast in her plate. 

The greying chap handed the dish to her, which she took and ensured to playfully graze her hand over his, when she took it from his grasp. 

‘Oh John, you have some butter at the corner of your mouth,’ she said, pointing to the messy area.

To Clara’s demise, she watched Miss Tyler take her napkin and wipe it off, before daring to ruffle his wonderful head of hair. Mr Smith chuckled, his face growing serious when he noticed his wife did not share the same amusement. Quite frankly, the best way to describe Clara at the moment, was to think of a large, black mist encircling her and her head adorned with horns, with claws for nails.

‘Good morning, everyone,’ chimed Jackie alongside her husband Phillip.

Clara forced a smile and played with her food, as the older couple began small talk at the table.

‘Oh no!’ Rose gasped, spilling her cup of tea onto the bodice of her dress.

Oh, she was good… and Clara waited with abated breath to see what she was going to do next. To her demise, she got up and ‘accidentally’ spilt tea onto John’s lovely crisp, white shirt.

‘Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!’ she cried, taking a napkin and dabbing at the wet spots, her other hand resting on his chest.

‘It’s alright. It’s just an accident,’ John said, kindly.

He got up, helping Rose and suggested they both tend to their soiled clothes. The little brunette, stared at the two and excused herself a few moments later, rushing after them. The last thing she wanted, was for Rose to have her nasty little paws on her property. 

\---

‘I’m so sorry abut your shirt,’ said Rose, examining the piece of clothing in her hand, before tossing it into the washing machine.

‘Its alright,’ John mumbled, standing bareback.

The blonde raked her eyes over his naked chest and licked her lips.

‘I guess… I should put my dress to wash as well…’ she remarked, slowly unbuttoning the top.

The successful entrepreneur gulped audibly and put a hand up to stop her.

‘I’ll take my leave now.’

The young Miss Tyler grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

‘You know John… we’ve known each other for years…’ she began.

‘I’ve had a crush on you forever and when I heard you were suddenly married after your divorce a few years ago, I was devastated.’

He frowned at her, unsure where she was going with this.

‘I’m jealous of Clara. She gets to have you… and you’re so perfect,’ she purred, resting a hand on his chest.

He backed away, looking at her warily.

‘Rose… I’m flattered but I’m a married man.’

‘So? She doesn’t need to know if we start a thing,’ she said with a devilish smile and looped her arms around his neck.

John removed them and held her wrists.

‘I’m sorry, Rose. I see you as a daughter and nothing else.’

The blonde looked at him, hurt.

‘Isn’t she the same? She’s no younger than me!’ she hissed.

‘Yes, but I love her. Not you,’ he said, coldly.

‘Now please, I don’t want things to be bad between us…’

Rose raised her hand and proceeded to slap him, but a small hand caught her fist.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?!’ shouted Clara, angrily.

The blonde scoffed and yanked her hand from her grasp.

‘I don’t know what the hell he sees in you! I guarantee he doesn’t feel an ounce of passion for you!’ she spat.

‘Why you...’ Clara spat, and John grabbed her by the waist, holding her back from pouncing on the other woman.

‘Let’s forget this ever happened okay? Rose, I’m sorry but Clara owns my heart and there isn’t any room for anyone else.’

The woman looked at him with angry, teary eyes and swore at them both, before stomping off.

The moment she was gone, Clara slapped him across the face.

‘What the hell, did you do that for?!’ he complained, rubbing his cheek.

‘For allowing her to flirt with you!’ she yelled and stormed out of sight.

John took his soiled shirt and tossed it back on, before following his upset wife, back to their room.

‘Clara! Wait!’ he shouted after her.

He managed to slip into the room in the nick of time, before locking the door behind her. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled.

‘You knew what she was doing and allowed it to happen!’

‘I was trying not to read too much into it, in case I was wrong!’ he defended.

Clara rolled her eyes and turned her back to him.

‘Please don’t be upset…’

‘Why did you have your shirt off?!’ she screamed at him angrily.

‘Did she touch you, before I could?!’ 

‘No. I threw my shirt in the wash and was going to our room to get another, but we ended up talking! She tried to take hers off and I stopped her!’

Clara scoffed, John feeling bad about the entire ordeal.

‘You know what John, just do whatever you want! I don’t care!’ she spat, a tear rolling down her cheek.

‘Please don’t cry…’ he pleaded.

‘Go away!’

He closed the distance between them, determined to calm her down.

‘Go aw-’ she began, but was unable to finish the sentence, when John in one swift move, backed her against the wall, held her arms above her head and crushed their lips together.

He broke the kiss a few seconds later and looked her in the eye.

‘I’ll never betray you, Clara! Ever!’

‘Shut up!’ she snapped and pulled him down, to kiss him again.

The kiss was needy, hungry as Clara dug her hands into John’s hair, while he pressed her firmly against his body. She felt him trace his tongue over her lips and she opened her mouth to him, their tongues tousling for dominance, as the kiss deepened. John winced as she bit down on his lip and growled possessively, ‘You’re mine!’  
She placed kisses along his jawline, before biting him again on his neck to his dismay.

‘Mine…’ she hissed and sucked hard on the spot, leaving a notable bruise.

‘Only yours,’ he growled in return and captured her lips again with his.

Eventually the anger that boiled in her blood subsided and the rough edge to their kisses simmered into loving tenderness. Clara ran her hand down the exposed area of his chest, feeling the goosebumps ripple over his skin. Her hand brushed over the tuft of hair that trailed to his arousal and he moaned in her mouth, shooting a wave of excitement through her. She let her hands wander further down and palmed him through his trousers.

‘Clara,’ he gasped, as she gave him a light squeeze.

She lowered her mouth to his chest and peppered his skin with soft kisses; earning soft gasps of pleasure.

‘John?’ called the last voice they needed to hear right now.

The pair felt the passion between them immediately fade, as Rose called from outside the door, again.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’ Clara complained, unwillingly letting John go.

He opened the door and the woman grew wide eyed with the scene she met. His shirt was wide open, hair a mess, lipstick smeared over his mouth, jaw, chest and neck and not to mention the purple bruise Clara had left.

‘What… happened to you?’ she asked, pointing to the mark on his neck.

Clara poked her head through the door, and rubbed her hand up and down John’s chest, suggestively. 

‘I marked my territory,’ she said with an evil grin, licking the injured skin.

John instantly reacted to her touch, his breath hitching, and he had to bite back a moan that threatened to escape his lips, as Clara raked her hand over his breast. Rose realized there was no chance for her and whatever she had planned was not an option.

‘Right… I’m sorry about earlier, John. Have a good day!’ she wished and dismissed herself before she felt even more awkward than she already did.

‘You’re a bad, woman,’ John stated, closing the door behind them.

‘There’s a reason, I marked you,’ Clara noted with a wink.

‘God, I love you,’ he said with a grin.

They both burst out laughing and took up residence on the couch, cuddling for the rest of the morning.


	22. Happiness isn't forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's Christmas weekend, and I have a ton of cooking to do, plus studying (coz I gotta finally get my license here in the US) and then try to fit in some writing. It's gonna be hard but I'll try to get it allllllllllll done!!!!
> 
> Hopefully, I can get another chapter done tonight, so it can be posted tomorrow and then have your Christmas chapter up and ready!
> 
> Now, I am sorry for the second half of this chapter... but we knew it was going to happen since the beginning... happy reading!

Chapter 22

The Smiths were overjoyed the weekend was over and they could finally resume their normal life. After the incident with Rose and Clara giving John a hard time, even with their near make out session, she was still upset about the entire incident.

‘You’re really not going to let me hug you?’ he complained, as she sat on the far end of the backseat.

‘Nope. No kisses either! That was your once in a lifetime opportunity!’ she barked, arms crossed tightly.

‘You’re killing me here!’

‘I’ll perhaps be lenient on Christmas, but if you so much as put mistletoe all over the house, just to try to kiss me again, I’m burning those plaid trousers and underpants!’ she threatened.

John furrowed his caterpillars for eyebrows and scratched his head.

‘You the boss,’ he said, holding his hands up in defeat.

Clara chuckled at the term and smile smugly to herself.

‘But for the record, I only kissed you to shut you up, else you’d have thrown a tantrum. Let’s not forget you were the one that jumped at me afterwards,’ he taunted, with a wink.

‘Well, it wasn’t my fault you were looking so hot with your shirt open and those sexy silver curls growing back in!’ she countered, with a bratty face.

John held his stomached and laughed hard.

‘So, I looked hot huh? And my hair is sexy? Hmmmm…’

Clara rolled her eyes and fixed her attention out the window.

‘Don’t let it go to your head.’

She felt a shift in the seat and when she looked over her shoulder, he was inches from her, pulling her backwards until she lay flat on her back across his lap. She frowned at him which immediately turned into a smile as he kissed her softly on the mouth, her lips instantly parting to let him in.

‘You know, if you keep this up… we might end up finishing what you started…’ Clara mumbled against her husband’s soft lips.

John grinned, ‘What’s so wrong with that?’

‘I’m not into live sex shows,’ she said, laughing.

John chuckled and watched her fix herself in his lap, her head using his legs as a pillow. She pulled his arm over her and sighed happily.

‘I never thought we’d be like this,’ she thought aloud.

‘Me neither… but I’m glad it turned out the way it did.’

‘Me too,’ she said smiling to herself, and closed her eyes as they journeyed home.

\---

Clara fussed when John attempted to move her off his lap, to climb out of the car.

‘We’re home, darling’ he whispered, lifting her head ever so gently.

‘Okay…’ she mumbled sleepily, making herself more comfortable.

He chuckled and eventually slid out from under her. After being greeted by his staff and bodyguards at the door, he dragged a very tired Clara out of the car.

‘Carry me,’ she yawned, propping herself against the backdoor.

John wasted no time and threw her onto his back; keeping a firm hold on her legs, while her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. Slowly, he made his way to her room and lay her onto the soft bed.

‘You’re a lot stronger than you look,’ she teased.

‘I thought you were sleeping?’

‘I was… but the bumpy ride woke me up!’

He shook his head and opened the glass door that lead to her balcony, feeling the rush of cool air enter the spacious area. 

‘Sooooooo, did you ever wash that stained shirt?’ she wanted to know.

‘No. I’m actually wearing it right now…’

Clara in a flash got to work, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat.

‘Hey! What are you doing?!’ he asked, surprised.

‘Getting rid of the dirty shirt…’ she said with an evil grin, as she ran her hand his bare chest; his shirt hanging off his shoulders.

John growled and pushed his wife onto the bed, removing the fabric and throwing it into the far corner of the room. In seconds he was atop her, kissing his way down her neck and opening her shirt with one hand, while the other gripped her waist as she ground her hips against his. Clara sat up to unclasp her bra, her mood diminishing the moment her husband’s phone rang.

‘Don’t answer it!’ she hissed, trying to snatch it from his hand.

‘I-it’s Marco…’ he stated, hesitantly.

Clara’s face grew pale, as John answered the call, putting it on loudspeaker.

‘Ah, so you’re back from your vacation now, are you?’ chimed Marco, without greeting.

‘What do you want?’

‘Now, now, that’s no way to speak to an old friend… I merely want to meet your lovely wife,’ the underlord explained.

John looked at Clara, her expression unreadable.

‘Do not forget it was part of the agreement we had.’

‘I know,’ John said hoarsely.

‘What are your instructions?’

Marco chuckled on the other end, ‘I’ll send my men to pick her up at your office on Saturday night, at six o’clock sharp.’

Mr. Smith agreed and closed his eyes, the dread filling his pit. 

‘Oh and John… if you attempt to have the police involved, I will see to it that she does not return to you. Is that clear?’

‘Why would I call the police?’

‘I have eyes and ears everywhere. I own the police. Don’t think I don’t know about your little visit to get a warrant to arrest me. There’s nothing you can.’

Clara stood up and took her silver fox’s hand. He looked at her, the worry written in his eyes.

‘Try anything like that, and I will see to it that you never hear from her again. I do hold my word of not macking on married women, but breaching contracts with me leads to consequences,’ the vile man noted and wished the two well, hanging up with a maniacal laugh resounding in their ears.

‘What are we going to do?’ whispered Clara.

John buried his face in his hands and shouted. Clara sat him down and hugged him from behind.

‘I’ll go, if it means giving us another day to live. However, if the police can’t help us, we need to find someone else who can.’

‘I don’t know what to do anymore… I don’t trust him. He could harm you.’

‘He’s not going to lay a finger on me. If he keeps his word as he says, and this is the last part of the contract… then we should be free. Next month is the last of his payments too.’

John didn’t want to hear it. Any of it.

‘You’re not going! I forbid it!’

‘We don’t have a choice!’ Clara reasoned.

‘He’ll kill us if he doesn’t get his way!’

‘There has to be something else we can do…’ he said hopelessly.

‘The police won’t help or get involved…’

The little lady sat in her greying husband’s lap and held him tight, hoping he eventually calmed down. They sat there in silence for a long time, until the brunette had the strangest idea.

‘I know someone who can help us,’ she blurted.

‘Who?’

‘An old friend of my mother’s. She works for a special secret undercover agency called UNIT, funded by the government.’

‘How are they going to help, without getting themselves or us killed?’

‘If we can provoke Marco into doing something drastic in the open, without making it look suspicious while I use myself as bait… then we can have him arrested and possibly trialled, given the judge isn’t a buyout.’

‘Too risky.’

‘It’s our only shot of at least getting him behind bars… we have to stop his tyranny, else I’m going to stop sleeping at night!’

‘I’ll think about it. You’re too important to me and I love you too much for you to be a sacrificial lamb in all of this…’

‘Quite frankly, it was because of me, you got yourself involved… life would have been simpler if you’d never agreed to this mess.’

‘Hey,’ he said, grabbing her wrist, ‘I did it because my heart told me to and I never regret getting myself into this madness. If anything is crazy here, it’s my love for you and that’s my driving force.’

Clara felt her eyes sting at his words.

‘What did I ever do for you to treat me like this, John...?’

He kissed her neck and whispered in her ear lovingly, ‘You gave me a chance.’


	23. No contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve!
> 
> I know people wanted fluff and steamy for the Christmas chapter... so I've decided to write two chapters with a mix.
> 
> Enjoy and I will have the grand, rewarding chapter tomorrow for you guys!

Chapter 23

‘Any luck?’ asked John, saddling Sheba.

‘Nothing,’ sighed Clara in defeat.

After mentioning possible help from the late Mrs Oswald’s friend, the brunette had dug through some of her mother’s personal effects, she had had kept after her passing. Among the small assortments, was a tiny phonebook. Thank goodness, she was old fashioned, keeping a handwritten contact list unlike most people today.

‘It keeps going to voicemail… I left like fifteen messages already.’

‘Maybe she’s busy?’

‘Perhaps. Kate is after all the head of the lead investigative team at UNIT.’

‘I hope she pulls through before Saturday. We’ve only got one more day left, before I send you off on a date with another man,’ John spat, mounting the graceful equine.

Clara looked up at him apologetically and followed suit, mounting Midnight with the aid of Wilfred.

The married couple trotted through the gardens, the air growing chilly as was typical for this time of the year. They rode alongside the river that ran through the estate, past the spot Clara had plummeted into the water until they arrived at a stone bridge. This was the furthest the small woman had ever come on her husband’s land and she felt a thrill encompass her, as they crossed the pathway and headed to the other side.

It was not much different from the rest of the estate, except for more vibrantly coloured trees that could not wait for late autumn to shed their large mass of leaves. The place was quiet, not a bird chirping, a butterfly fluttering or a hare darting into the nearby bushes. The subtle crunch of leaves under the horses’ hooves performed a harmonious song; only one that nature could sing. 

The dense brush of trees grew thinner the further they travelled, eventually opening into a large field. The grass was still green, and there were late annuals in their last stages of bloom; their crisp, dynamic hues fading from the everchanging world as death slowly consumed them. 

‘We’re all like flowers,’ Clara mumbled to herself, dismounting the horse to closer examine the aging petals.

‘In what respect?’ her husband asked, jumping off his saddle.

‘We’re only here for such a short period of time. We are born as something so small, and grow into something beautiful and delicate, only to be consumed by age… or have it ended by someone or something else,’ she explained, showing him a petal that appeared to be eaten by a bug.

‘That’s what Marco’s doing…’

She swallowed hard and plucked the flower from it’s elongated stem and tucked it in John’s coat pocket.

‘I really hope she calls back…’ she said, deep in thought.

John tucked his finger under his wife’s chin and averted her gaze to him.

‘Keep trying. I copied her number to my phone and you said you left my contact number along with yours in the voice message, so either of us can receive her call, granted she gets the messages,’ he informed.

‘Why do I feel like something bad is going to happen?’ she asked, softly.

‘Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t allow it… and I don’t want you to go either but…’

‘A deal is a deal,’ Clara continued, completing his sentence.

‘How about we not talk about him for a while and just enjoy out here for a bit hmm?’

The beautiful lady smiled and broke into a laugh when John produced a large fleece blanket and a bag, he stealthy hid on the saddle. They nestled themselves beneath a shady oak tree and chowed down on chocolate chip biscuits and a glass of chardonnay.

‘I wish time could freeze and we could stay like this forever,’ she said dreamily, laying down and staring up at the network of branches above.

John looked down at her, occupying her entire field of vision. She felt him brush his hand against her cheek and smiled.

‘I love you,’ he said, lowering his face to hers, till their lips were barely touching.

‘I always will, and I will fight for you, till the end.’

His words were etched in gold on Clara’s heart and once again, she felt guilty for all the troubles he went through because of her. What he sacrificed and endured to ensure her safety and how many times he confessed his undying love for her yet, there was not one time she told him how she felt. Surely, they were married almost nine months and in that period, they had fought on so many occasions, bickered or just plainly ignored one another. To think they moved from such an unloving couple, to what they had now.

But what did they have now? How would you describe it? John loved her deeply and she knew it. But what did she feel for him? Clearly her heart wavered and there was no denying how absolutely attracted she was to him, now. However, would she say she love him? Did she love him? The thought scared her, immensely. Loving John would not be such a bad thing, but the sudden fear of losing him not due to Marco but their vast age difference, suddenly dawned on her. What would she do if he died before her? How long did they have together? The thoughts began flooding her mind, until she was completely overwhelmed.

‘What’s wrong, darling?’ he asked, observing the tears that slid down the corner of her eye.

‘I want you to make me a promise,’ she demanded, voice shaky but firm.

‘Alright… what is it?’

‘Don’t leave me… please?’

He chuckled, ‘I never will.’

‘No. I meant, do not leave me… don’t die before I do…’

He frowned and wiped her eyes.

‘Marco isn’t going to kill me.’

‘I’m not talking about him! You’re older than me by almost thirty years! What am I going to do if you decide to leave me here alone?!’ she sobbed.

‘Oh, Clara…’ was all he could say.

He knew what she meant. Yes, Marco was one problem but now that she mentioned it… This was something he could not control, and he prayed and wished hard that he could live as long as he could, happily with her.

‘Kiss me, John…’ she pleaded softly, and he did slowly and carefully.

\---

John yawned and slid into bed, his mind weighing heavily on what was yet to come. Marco…Clara… Thinking of it made his head hurt and seeing her cry like that this afternoon with other issues she rose made him unsettled. A soft knock on his door broke his thoughts and he looked up to see Clara clutching Little John, decked in a fluffy pink robe, standing in his doorway.

‘Everything alright?’

‘Can I sleep here tonight…?’ she asked to his surprise.

‘Um… sure… I’ll sleep on the floor.’

‘No. With you… in your bed… as husband and wife…’

‘You want to share our bed…?’ he asked in disbelief.

Clara nodded slowly, and John watched her, as she tossed her robe aside, climbed onto the opposite side of the mattress and slid under the covers. He did the same and flicked the nightlamp off. The moment he settled himself, he felt the bed shift along with small hands yanking at his arm. In the dim light, he watched his wife wrap his arm around her as she rested her head on his chest, throwing her leg and arm over him. John felt touched, feeling a sense of achievement.

He kissed the top of her head and felt her slide her hands under his t shirt, warming them against his lower back.

‘You smell so good,’ she purred, sleepily.

He grinned and closed his eyes. Despite everything, and how much he despised Marco… he had to thank him for one thing and that was for giving him Clara. If not for him, he wouldn’t be lying in bed with this extraordinary woman.

‘I love you,’ he whispered, pulling her closer to him and drifted off to sleep.


	24. Going further

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!
> 
> I hope you all had a wonderful day and I haven't watched the Xmas special and I don't think I want to but I did see spoilers and watched the regeneration. I have to say, the moment his ring fell off his finger, I knew that was it. His time was up and I felt a part of me die... I haven't seen the full Clara part, but I will when I watch the full episode this weekend.
> 
> As promised, here is your Xmas chapter. You got some fluff last chapter for those who asked and I wonder what is in store for this chapter.. hmmm... leave a comment when you're done reading it! That would be a nice Xmas present from you guys, knowing whether you're happy or not with it and how you feel about the story thus far :)
> 
> Have a Merry Xmas again, and next update will be this coming weekend, hopefully.

Chapter 24

Clara awoke in the middle of the night, John’s side of the bed empty. She scrambled out from under the sheets and looked around the room for any sign of him. With no luck, she opened the bedroom door and peeked down the hall, the faint sound of a piano filling the still night air. Mrs Smith followed the music, leading her to the banquet room with a large piano nestled to the corner and behind it, sat her husband deep in concentration.

John randomly ran his fingers over the black and white keys. He was so lost in thought, he did not notice Clara approaching him and jumped when he felt her small hand on his shoulder. He looked up, his lovely wife staring down at him. She hadn’t bothered to wear her evening robe, and stood in her short, silk, spaghetti-strapped, night dress with a wonderful plunging neck. John allowed his eyes to wander over her tiny frame for a couple of seconds, before refocusing on her face.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asked, taking a seat beside him.

‘No.’

She rested her head on his shoulder, watching his long, elegant fingers dance across the musical instrument. His wedding ring shone in the dim light, the small embedded diamonds on his band, shimmering brightly. Clara took his three-fingered hand and interlaced their fingers, looking at the healed stubs. John brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles. She smiled and ruffled his hair in return.

‘Careful. I may have to end up at the barber’s again,’ he teased.

She cocked an eyebrow and stood behind him. Slowly, she raked her fingers through his soft curls from front to back. He relaxed instantly and closed his eyes, savouring her touch. His eyes flung open the moment she stopped. 

‘Still need to visit a barber’s?’ she teased, now leaning against the side of the piano.

He grinned devilishly and walked over to her. She looked up at him with smiling eyes as he moved the locks of hair framing her face, and tucked them behind her ears. With his injured hand, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her eyes grew dark, breath hitching as he inched forward, their bodies almost touching. He cupped her face and bent forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. Clara felt a jolt of electricity ran through her body as their mouths met, and she immediately kissed him back.

John was tall and as much as she tiptoed, it made no difference in the amount of energy and how hard it was to keep up the kiss. Eventually she broke it, panting for air and looked at him the same way he was looking at her; with an undying hunger. He scooped her up in his arms without warning and set her down atop the piano, their faces almost the same level. Clara grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him down to kiss her again; and kiss her he did, making himself comfortable between her thighs as he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist.

Clara felt hungry, greedy… she wanted John inside her, fucking her hard and fast, till she was a satisfied mess. John wanted the same, but he was going to dish it out slowly. He wanted to torture and tantalize her, work her into a sweat and make her beg before he finally decided she earned her release, screaming his name over and over as he fucked the pleasure out of her. 

His lips left hers, and wandered down the side of her neck, his hands beginning to wander under her dress. She shuddered as they crawled up her legs and cupped her large breasts, massaging and squeezing her peaked nipples. She gripped his hair, tilting her neck more, giving him more area to caress with his lips and tongue. Clara couldn’t help but moan as he moved to her chest, one of his hands leaving her breast and sliding a strap off her shoulder. She threw her head back as he slowly sucked on the skin of her exposed cleavage, and dug her fingers into his scalp, as his mouth engulfed her hardened nipple.

She gasped loudly as she felt him swirl his tongue over the tip, nibbling at it in between. He did the same with the other side of her dress, her other breast receiving the same treatment. She arched her back, pushing her chest up, filling his mouth with more of her as she dug her fingers into his soft flesh. He knew exactly what to do, how to kindle the flames that threatened to make her entire body combust ans the fact he was going at a snail’s pace, was driving her insane.

‘John…’ she whimpered, ‘I need you…’

He slid the rest of her dress down to her waist, trailing kisses along her stomach. She grabbed him and pulled him up for a crushing kiss, her hands fumbling to unbutton his shirt. With success at last, she opened it and slid it off his shoulders. She kept their lips locked as she ran her hands down his lean chest, feeling the goosebumps trail behind with her touch. With a daring move, she slid her hand down to his crotch and palmed him. He moaned into her mouth and broke the kiss, breathing heavily. 

He pushed her onto her back and removed the dress completely, parting her legs and lightly kissing his way up from her knee; lingering on her thighs. He felt her shiver with anticipation and knew he had her where he wanted. Swiftly, he hooked his hands in the waistband of her soaked knickers and tore them off, spreading her wide. He planted a kiss to her hip bone, eyes locked with hers and licked across her sex. She lay back, inhaling deeply as he nipped and sucked on her, digging his tongue into her, as far as he could go. Clara dug her hand into his hair, as he feasted upon her, arching her back and moaning in her throes of passion.

‘John… please… I want you inside… of me…’ she begged, as she neared her peak, but he didn’t give her what she craved. 

He continued at the same pace, never going faster or slower, until he felt her convulse and tasted the flood of juices that flowed onto his tongue. He licked her clean, her moaning, making the tent in his trousers harder with each passing minute. She was panting heavily, but he wasn’t done yet. 

He pulled her up into a sitting position and kissed the wind out of her. She hungrily kissed him back, the feel of her naked breasts against his chest driving him wild, her hands fighting for the perfect grip. He held her waist with one arm, while he began rubbing her nub with his other. She gasped and groaned as he began working her up again, never letting her completely get a chance to come down form her first high. Her loud moans filled the room, the gaps between them, becoming shorter as she sang her song of desire.  
She cried out when he inserted a finger, pulsing in and out of her entrance, slowly and carefully, ensuring to hit that spot that made her grunt. She didn’t last as long this time, her legs open as widely as they could for his access, as he kept it going with his fingers. He added a second and that was all it took. She cried out, body coated in a thick film of sweat, as she fell limply onto the piano cover. Her body was flush, skin glowing… but now, it was his turn.

John quickly undid his belt and shoved his trousers and underpants, stained with precum down his thighs and buried himself deep inside of her. Clara instantly wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her hips in time with his, as he kept with his ridiculously slow thrusts. He pulled out almost completely and dove into her again, unhurried and hard, exactly how she needed it, not how she wanted it. They shared a few sloppy kisses, her arms wrapped around his now sweaty skin, as they moved together. John felt the aching need for release, but he wanted to come with Clara this time, so he held back. 

He lay her back down and threw both legs over his shoulders and sped up. Clara held onto the edge of the piano as she and John began moaning uncontrollably. Mrs Smith felt her body shift into overdrive, hearing her husband whimper as he drove into her with increased force, with every advance. She felt her orgasm creeping up again and with one, two, three thrusts, they both climaxed, Clara screaming John’s name over and over like a mantra. He slumped atop her, her legs shaking and held him close, petting his head, as they tried to regain control of their sanity and breath. The house was quiet as a mouse and she wondered if the maids must’ve heard their entire session word for word.

‘You okay?’ she asked, when he finally pulled out.

‘I should be asking you that,’ he said with a smile, pushing back the sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

‘Couldn’t have been better.’

They both chuckled and John pulled her into a kiss.

‘I hope you got some stamina Mr. Smith,’ she taunted, ‘Because I think it’s my turn to make you scream.’

He howled with laughter, picking up their clothes off the floor, before they ran upstairs and spent the rest of the night, making love until they passed out from exhaustion a few hours later.


	25. Don't come knocking if...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of you are busy with the holidays, but I'm going to update the story still because I know there are some of you who take the time to read the new chapter.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and I hope you loved your Christmas chapter ;)
> 
> Here is an early New Year's present before the angst and drama fully takes over, once again.
> 
> If I do not post before 2018, after this chapter, I want to wish each and every one of you a very Happy New Year 2018 filled with joy, happiness, whouffaldi goodness (I'm going to keep writing whouffaldi stories for as long as I can, even when the fandom shrinks and picks up a new following) and lots of smiles!
> 
> Now, let's see what the morning after brings...
> 
> -whitesplashes

Chapter 25

Clara awoke to the feeling of something tickling her neck, soft hands tracing the curve of her hips. She smiled when he felt a hot breath on the side of her cheek and giggled at the tug of her earlobe between her husband’s teeth.

‘Good morning,’ she mumbled, a smile on her face.

‘Mornin’…’ John replied, planting kisses down her neck.

Clara pulled his head up to hers and rubbed her nose against his, smiling happily.

‘Slept well?’

Her silver fox granted her a broad grin and flipped them over, putting his tiny wife on top.

‘I’m a bit sore from last night…’ she began, but the puppy dog eyes he gave her, made her heart melt and she gave in.

‘Seeing, I’m on top, I’m in control,’ she said wickedly.

John frowned and watched as she grabbed the sash from her night robe and tied his hands to the bed post.

‘Kinky,’ he said, his eyes growing dark and lustful.

Clara ran her hands up and down his chest, watching her grey headed lover’s skin respond to her touch.

‘Now it’s my turn to make you scream, seeing you didn’t give me the chance last night,’ she crooned and slowly kissed her way down his neck and onto his chest, lingering just above his heart.

He groaned loudly when she playfully nipped at his nipple between her teeth, throwing his head back into the pillow when she repeated the action again. The little lady ran her tongue down his belly, feeling him shiver as she approached his already hardened sex. With a gentle hand, she massaged the area just above the base of his shaft, fingers tangled in the small mat of silver hair. Mr Smith gasped and thrust his hips up, his breathing audible to her ears.

‘Clara…’ he moaned, feeling that small hand work him up, without even touching his awaiting arousal.

‘Patience, darling,’ she ordered seductively, and slid her hand lower to cup his sac, gently squeezing it enough to cause pleasure and not pain.

She smirked as she watched his cock twitch, the life flowing through it as she knew it was aching in anticipation to dive inside of her. However, she was just getting started and obtaining her payback for last night. She wanted to torture him the way he tortured her atop that darn piano and have her name be the only thing he could say, by the time she was done.

With her index finger, she trailed his length from base to tip, rubbing his head playfully and smearing the small amount of precum he leaked, over its entirety.

‘Clara…’ he said again, beads of sweat now coating his brow, his chest rising and falling in more rapid succession.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips, dipping her tongue into his eager mouth, while unsuspectingly taking a hold of his glorious manhood.

‘Mpfh!’ he groaned, as she gave him a squeeze.

He broke the kiss, looking at her with hooded eyes and pushed his hips up, into her hand. She chuckled and watched his eyes, pleading for her to give him release.

‘Tell me you want me,’ she purred into his ear, giving him another light squeeze.

‘I want you,’ he gasped, as he felt the pleasure shoot through his core.

‘Again,’ she demanded, and he repeated, Clara rewarding him each time, till his skin was dripping and he felt like he was about to burst.

‘Please, Clara…’ he begged, trying hard to get her to end his suffering.

The brunette winked and sank down onto his member, reveling in glory as he filled her up entirely. She began rolling her hips, her and John both moaning with the continuous friction. 

‘Untie me,’ he growled, tugging at the constraints as she sped up.

‘Why?’ she asked, going slightly faster, palms on his chest.

‘Because, I want to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk after I’m done with you!’ he hissed.

Hearing those words, she immediately undid the binding and John grabbed her hips and thrust up, hard and deep. Clara threw her head back, her loud moans echoing in the room. He flipped them over and held her arms above her head to her horror.

‘Oh no, you don’t!’ she growled.

He kissed her breathless, shutting her up before she could complain and entered her with such a force, he felt her entire body slide with the movement, up the bed. 

‘Oh God, John! Fuck!’ she screamed, as he let her arms go and continued to pulse into her.

‘Do that again!’ she wailed, hooking her legs onto his hips.

He happily obliged, making his wife fall apart under him. So much for making John scream, she thought as he slammed into her. They both felt their peak nearing and as Clara dug her nails into his back, he heard her cry out with the undeniable sensation of her walls convulsing around him. It was too much, and he erupted deep inside her, their hands linked together. 

Mr Smith rolled off her and fell onto his back, each trying to catch their breath.

‘Think… you can… walk… now?’ he asked, panting.

‘We’ll see,’ she said, chuckling.

‘I still … didn’t get… to make you scream,’ she whined.

John laughed out loud and pulled Clara closer to him.

‘Maybe another time, darling,’ he taunted, kissing her head.

‘Wicked old man,’ she spat, climbing back atop him.

‘You ready for another go?’ she asked, still out of breath.

‘Sorry to disappoint, but I’m out of all forms of bodily fluids.’

Clara bent over laughing and lay atop him, dropping her entire weight on his skinny frame.

‘You know, you’re a lot heaver than you look,’ he teased, closing his arms around her back.

‘Are you calling me fat?!’ 

‘Noooo!’ he defended.

‘Good… because the only thing we need to stay fat and big is that fine device between your legs,’ she reminded, stroking him gently.

John inhaled sharply at her touch and their stares connected.

‘You sure you don’t have any more bodily fluids left, Mr. Smith?’ she asked, evilly.

He swallowed hard, as she ran her hand up and down his slowly hardening pride.

‘Oh, sod it!’ he dismissed and gave into her plight, as he allowed her to fully take the reins.

\---

Amy and her fellow co-worker looked at one another, as the loud screams and moans echoed clearly from upstairs. The dining room chandelier shook dramatically, the ceiling rumbling with the muffled pounding of wood against wood.

‘Well, at least they’re happy,’ stated Amy, dusting the top of the table off with a dry cloth.

‘Yes, but since last night they’ve been at it. I barely had any sleep, coz of them!’ complained the other woman.

‘Twenty pounds they have sex in the kitchen when they come downstairs,’ the redhead bargained.

‘Fifty they jump one another on the dining room table after dinner.’

‘And I say eighty quid they don’t come down for another two hours,’ wagered Wilfred, walking into the room.

‘Deal,’ the women said in unison and placed their bets, each hoping to win.


	26. An unwanted date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year and ... yeah probably not the best way to start off the new year with...but hey, at least Christmas was good, right?!

Chapter 26

Wilfred slowly counted his money, occasionally eying the married couple, snogging each other mercilessly from across the horse stable. It was nice to see them happy at last, after all the bickering and arguments they endured months before. 

‘I can barely feel my legs,’ John grumbled against Clara’s lips.

She pulled away laughing, ‘Well, it’s what happens when you have a young wife. No rest for the old!’

‘Hey! I’m not old. I’m finely aged,’ he defended.

Clara gave him a cheeky grin and slapped his behind.

‘You really are frisky, young lady.’

‘I don’t remember that being a bad thing,’ she threw at him and slapped his backside again, before running off with him chasing after her.

John eventually caught her, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and spun her around. They both laughed giddily like little school children, their happiness infectious as Wilfred found himself smiling at them.

‘Uncle John!’ called a familiar voice.

The pair looked up to see Robert a few feet away waving at them.

‘Robert! What are you doing here?!’ shouted Clara, in surprise.

‘I was passing through. Thought I’d pay a visit,’ he explained, greeting her with a hug and his uncle with a handshake.

‘You two, busy tonight? I’ve booked a reservation at your favourite restaurant for us all to have dinner.’

John and Clara’s face fell and they looked at one another, the happiness completely leached.

‘N-no… I have a… client to meet with tonight. He’s quite interested in my work,’ she lied.

‘Oh? Well what about you, Uncle John?’

Mr Smith was not keen on leaving the house tonight or letting Clara out of his sight and with still no word from Kate, he was pulling at straws on how to handle the situation that was going down a couple hours from now.

‘Nah. I’m staying in tonight. Maybe we can play a couple card games, like old times?’

‘Sure,’ his nephew agreed and headed indoors, with a happy Amy trailing behind him, the moment he entered the building.

\-----

‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ John stated, as he shut the front passenger door, behind Clara.

‘I’ll be fine. I’ve got my phone and a small knife, hidden in my dress,’ she reassured.

‘That doesn’t help Clara, you know it. He specifically told me not to have anyone follow you, not even my bodyguards and I’m not to be anywhere near you from now, till you return…’

‘I know darling… but I can’t think of anything we can do to have him arrested… I’m just going with the flow here…’

He sighed and took her hand.

‘I love you,’ he said and kissed it.

She smiled at him and caressed his cheek before Peter drove off with his wife, to have dinner with a man he was unsure would harm her.

Clara drew in a shaky breath as the butler pulled up outside her husband’s office. A black car was already parked and waiting with two huge men dressed in black suits, standing nearby. The little woman tugged at her coat and closed her eyes, picturing her husband’s smiling face. Everything was going to be alright she told herself. After the meeting, the terms to their deal would be done and she and John would be finally free to live their lives as they pleased.

She slowly got out of the car, Peter wishing her well. She felt scared the moment he drove off, leaving her with the strange men.

‘Mrs Smith,’ addressed one of them, opening the backdoor for her.

She nodded and slid in, while the two hunks jumped into the front seats and drove off to her unknown destination. The ride was long and if she were correct, they made a circle of the area three times. Perfect, they were taking precautions in case John had decided to let his men follow them. Eventually, they pulled into a dark alleyway and let her out. She looked around, the cold wind sending a chill that seeped into her bones.

‘This way, ma’am,’ instructed the same man from earlier and opened the door to the building they parked a few feet from.

They took her through a narrow corridor, up a winding staircase and then through a wooden door, leading to a large well-lit room. It was mostly empty, it’s plain white walls all covered in art pieces. She studied them and felt a pang of distress as she realized they were all her works. All the works she had sold over the past few months…

‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ came a male voice thick with a Spanish accent.

‘They’re all… mine,’ she choked, unable to remove her eyes from the wall.

‘I’m quite a fan of the painter. She’s very talented and must I say, very beautiful,’ he complimented.

Clara suddenly felt scared. Something told her, what was about to transpire tonight, was nothing that was agreed upon from the last series of phone calls. This man wanted something… and it was clear what it was… 

‘Hello, Clara,’ he said, from behind her.

She swallowed hard and put up a brave face, slowly turning around. Her eyes fell on a tall man, with black hair, nicely tanned skin and grey eyes, wearing a feline grin, holding two wine glasses. He offered one to her, which she took, hesitantly.

‘Don’t worry, it’s just champagne. I ensured there were no drugs or chemicals dunked in there,’ he joked, making her more nervous with each passing second.

‘Hello…’ she said, at a loss of words.

‘Oh, how rude of me. My name is Marco Ramirez and I am your date for this evening,’ he introduced, extending his hand to her.

‘You killed my parents…’ she said, a mere whisper.

‘No. I killed one of your parents and that was your father. Your mother however… that was not my intention…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I loved your mother. I’d never let anything happen to her but the day she got involved with Dave Oswald, was the day I cut my losses and your stupid father was the reason she died.’

‘But you said you loved her… I don’t understand…’

‘I’ll explain it to you later. For now, let’s enjoy our dinner, shall we?’ he said, offering the crook of his arm to take.

She knew better than to refuse and was irked when he placed his palm over hers, while he led her into the dining room. Maybe she should’ve listened to John… but this man just mentioned her mother. What did he mean killing her was not his intention? There was only one way to find out and she had the feeling, that there were many truths to be told tonight, all ugly and accompanied with endless untold secrets.


	27. A lost love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Hope your new year, has been treating you well so far.
> 
> Mine started off harshly. My car engine froze over and had to take days off to try to thaw it out... ubering to and from home to get to the Auto stores and work was stressful and frustrating. Thankfully everything is well now and I can finally update the story!
> 
> I had to sit and really brainstorm how to put my scrambled thoughts into a readable format for this chapter, because I began writing this story, from the idea of this chapter.
> 
> This should answer some open ended questions from earlier chapters and later chapters will also answer those raised in this one. 
> 
> Hold tight to your seat, because now things are going to get super bumpy!

Chapter 27

Marco pulled the chair out and slid it delicately under Clara, before seating himself on the opposite end of the small, dining table. He went through the trouble to make an appealing ambience, placing a small vase of red roses as a centrepiece and situating their dinner on a balcony, overlooking the city.

A tall man, decked in a chef’s uniform presented their dinner on a silver platter.

‘I hope you like steak,’ the underlord said, as the food was placed in front of them.

Clara stared at the meal, not bothering to answer. Her mind was shrouded with endless questions. There were answers she desired to know, especially about her mother. Marco said he loved her. Was there a hidden affair her mother was involved in before her father? Was this all connected to her and John’s current fate that shaped their lives up to now?  
‘My mother…’ she began, ‘You said you loved her… and you weren’t responsible for killing her?’

Ramirez nodded and set his dining utensils down.

‘Yes. Emily was a wonderful woman. You look so much like her…’

Clara balled her fist, waiting for him to continue. He lay back in his chair, chuckled and began his story.

He started out, telling her of their first encounter at an art show. She was a young painter, trying to enter the market and confessed that he fell head over heels, the moment he laid eyes on her. After some chasing, he managed to worm his way into her life and eventually her heart. They were contented, and he helped her find numerous sponsors for her work. As their time together lengthened, she became pregnant with his child, without his knowledge.

During this period, he was already a thriving businessman with a hidden side. Unknown to Emily, he dabbled in illicit drugs from street to medical, selling them to counterparts who valued money over their buyer’s physical health. She eventually found out when one of her friends, an apparently regular customer of Marco’s, was unable to pay for a fix and stole her part. 

She had stormed into Emily’s apartment knowing the dealers were hot on her trail. Marco’s men eventually located the thief’s whereabouts that evening and dragged both women out into a dark alleyway. Luckily, Marco made a rare personal appearance and to his demise, his girlfriend was also locked in one of his drug member’s choke hold.  
Emily was a smart woman and it didn’t take much for her to piece together the puzzle. Her repulsion was clear, and Mr. Ramirez had ordered the men to release them immediately, sparing her friend who later died a few weeks later from an overdose. He tried in vain to explain he was not what she thought him to be, but it was no use. 

Emily refused to hear anything and immediately distanced herself from him. Marco tried in vain to apologize and show her he was not a monster, but failed tremendously. Eventually he decided to give her space, hoping she’d come back to him with time. That was his biggest mistake, because two months after, she met an upcoming entrepreneur, Dave Oswald. Marco grew jealous and tried hard to woo her back, when he noticed them getting too close for comfort. He once again stepped into her life, in attempt to sever her new relationship, without making her hate him more than she already did. This made her more determined to keep him out of his life and to his greatest dismay, they were married three months into their relationship.

He was enraged and sent his men to slaughter Dave but thought better of it. She’d never want him back for sure if he killed her husband, and she would know it was his doing... Instead, he did extensive research on the chap and found he was an avid gambler and unearthed he enjoyed flaunting large sums of money at numerously well-known casinos. Fortunately, word of the birth of his child during her first six months of marriage remained a secret to him and it was put up for adoption. Dave thought the babe was his, but Emily had the adoption covered up by bribing the nurse, informing him the child was still-born.

Marco in a final attempt showed up at Mrs Oswald’s house unannounced, and broke the news about her husband and his addiction. She refused to believe him and sent him off, warning him to never come near her again. A few nights later, she realized he told the truth when Dave walked through the door at a late hour, stone drunk and bleeding, confessing he had lost all their money on a game of poker at a popular casino, he frequented.

From then on, the arguments took place, and Emily grew frustrated with her husband after giving him numerous chances, to change. He promised to never do it again each time she forgave him, and he always gave into his habits a couple weeks later. She eventually packed her bags and left for her parent’s home, without the knowledge that she was once again pregnant. The day Clara was born, she informed Dave and he pulled himself together, begging her to return home. She agreed, not wanting their daughter to grow up without knowing her father, despite everything.

Marco had strongly believed that revealing Dave’s huge flaw, would drive a large wedge between Emily and her husband, and it did for some time, but after their ‘second’ child was born, he was proven wrong. The despicable man grew envious and desperate and devised another plan to wreak havoc in his lost lover’s marriage. He knew Dave was still in debt to many people and without Mrs Oswald’s knowing, he offered to loan him money to pay off his debtors. Unfortunately, the man was ignorant to Marco’s history with his wife and accepted the offer, asking him to keep it out of earshot from Emily. For the first year, he was able to pay off all his debts, however, old habits die hard and as Clara grew into a fine young woman, his tab grew immensely for the underlord. 

Marco watched silently as Dave’s and Emily’s world crumbled over the next couple of years. The misery he felt of not having her, she now felt in another form. Despite this, he still loved her and had planned to take her and Clara out of the mess, knowing any day she was close to filing a divorce. This changed when she confronted him two days after Clara’s twenty-fifth birthday, blaming him for her broken marriage. Although it was partly true, he begged to differ blaming her poor excuse of a husband.

One last time, he asked her to spend the rest of her days with him. Emily refused and informed she knew Dave owed him money. She promised to pay the rest of his payments to clear her husband’s debts, despite their near bankruptcy, and threatened to call the police if he interfered with her life again. He was so outraged and heartbroken, he ordered his men to kill Dave. He didn’t care anymore. If Emily didn’t want him, then so be it. Dave Oswald was a dead man.

Amongst the men he sent that night, was a young man he adopted from a baby. He had the same likeness as him and some of his mother. He was Emily’s secret. One he never uttered to her despite having stumbled upon him five years later, wandering the streets. Some hacking and the right connections, along with a paternity test answered his question. He educated the boy and at a reasonable age was told the truth about his abandonment by his mother. Instead of sadness, the young lad was filled with hatred and rage. The moment he found out Emily was his mother, obvious from the numerous photos of her Marco hung on his office walls, he marked her for death, killing her instead of Dave that night, when he had sent out the order. 

The underlord was grief-stricken by Emily’s death but had bigger matters to deal with. He made the deal that sealed Clara’s fate that night with Dave, which was meant to be an impossible task, just to amuse himself and watch the man suffer. A much more fruitful fate, after taking his wife’s life. However, when he married Clara to John Smith, he underestimated the sad sob and realized despite everything, the dirtbag loved and cared about his daughter. 

Marco from then on, kept a watchful eye of Clara, slowly becoming intrigued with the beautiful brunette over time. He took interest in her abilities, and found himself slowly falling in love with her. She looked so much like her mother and there were a lot of things she held in common with his former lover. The fact she was rushed into a marriage with an older man was his fault, but after observing her feisty nature, he figured it wouldn’t last as long. 

So, with immense patience, his plan was to wait till she forced Mr. Smith’s hand for a divorce, taking a backseat to watch the drama. Eventually, he was at some point going to introduce himself to her and hopefully sweep her off her feet. What he did not expect was for her and the old crone to fall in love and him to spill the can of worms. He initially wanted to meet her, to kill her after Dave paid what he owed, despite talking about his family’s honour. What he had not banked on, was having her steal his heart instead.  
When Dave had not paid his monthly dues as part of the new deal they had derived, he spilled light on his involvement with the late Mrs Oswald. The man was overcome with such shock, he feared the worse for his daughter and son-in-law and wanted nothing more than to warn them, about a potential double-cross. Marco of course lied, saying he could go scotch free and then had him shot.

‘You’re a monster,’ Clara whispered at him, eyes red and brimmed with tears when he was finished with his story.

‘I did it out of love.’

‘You did it for YOURSELF!’ she spat, taking the wine glass and throwing the contents in his face.

He coughed and glared at her, his men seconds from tackling her, but he held his hand up, holding them back.

‘I take what I want! Your mother left me for that good for nothing and now, you’re the closest thing I have to her. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to have you!’

‘Never! I belong to John and nobody else,’ she hissed.

He cocked a brow at her and pulled out an iPad. A tap here and there and he slid it across the table to her. She took it up carefully and frowned at the image on the screen. It was a photo of the living room of her house. She watched as Amy passed by, putting a cup of tea on the table. It was a video… not a photo.

‘It’s live,’ he said, menacingly.

Fear creeped up in her belly as she watched Robert and John walk into the room, talking and laughing.

‘You ever found it odd, that Robert popped into the picture when things were bad?’ 

Clara inhaled deeply, flicking her gaze to him and then back to the screen.

‘I sent him to try to drive a wedge between you and John. Turns out even his charm wasn’t enough to waver your heart… but it was enough for the little redhead maid. Thanks to her, I was able to know everything going on in the household… I had him romance her to squeeze every detail from her about you. Thankfully they kept in contact…’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I wanted to know your every move and watching you and John bicker was quite amusing till you two got close,’ he explained.

‘But Robert is John’s nephew… isn’t he?’ she asked, suddenly unsure.

He grinned devilishly rocking in his chair.

Clara’s eyes opened wide as she watched John turn his back to him and he hit him across the head with the candle stick from the table, knocking him out cold.

‘John!’ she screamed and looked horrified as Robert peered into the face of the camera.

He smirked, and she gasped when Amy walked in and he shot her point blank with the gun hidden in his jacket. Seconds later, the bodyguards stormed in, but Marco’s men were already there, outnumbering the mass that filtered into the room; slaughtering them like animals. Clara dropped the iPad and looked at the man before her, horrified.

‘What have you done?!’ she screamed.

‘I’m not going to lose Emily, again.’

‘Robert is John’s nephew… he wouldn’t kill his uncle…’

‘When you say nephew… it doesn’t mean they are related by blood. John was fond of Robert because he knew him as a boy. He was his doctor before I found him…’

‘How… do you know all of this?’

‘I took care of Robert, from a young lad.’

‘He’s the boy you mentioned earlier…’ she blurted, realization hitting like a punch to the face.

Marco’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

‘Yes. He’s my son, which makes him your half-brother and your soon-to-be deceased husband’s killer.’


	28. The other side of the story

Chapter 28

John groaned, the sharp pain in his head like a hammer hitting a nail. He opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times before his sharp sense of smell caught the undeniable scent of blood. His eyes darted around the room, fixing on Amy lying on the floor a few feet away, in a pool of red. 

‘Amy…’ he whispered hoarsely, and attempted to stand up, only to realize he was tied to a chair.

In vain, he tried wriggling free of his constraints, but it was no use. Using his long legs, he managed to bend forward and stand up, taking the chair with him as he shuffled towards the female.

‘Amy,’ he called, standing over the maid.

He nudged her with his foot a few times, hoping to wake her… that is if she wasn’t dead. To his relief, he heard a faint moaning and the woman looked up at him, with hooded eyes.

‘Mr. Smith…’ she said, groggily.

‘Stay still. I need to get out of these binds and look at your wound.’

She gave a weak smile, before horror filled her face. John noticed her change and turned around, to see Robert propped in the doorway staring at them.

‘You…’ John said, the shock and disbelief too much to bear. 

‘Hello Uncle,’ the young lad greeted.

‘What have you done?!’ he shouted.

The floppy-haired male smirked and shoved the older man down onto his seat.

‘I’m just carrying out orders.’

‘Did you do this to Amy?’ 

‘I did.’

‘Why…? What have we done to make you do such horrid things?’ he asked, helplessly.

Robert squatted over the woman and rolled her onto her back. John noticed the bloodied cloth that was pressed to her abdomen and watched as he carefully changed it with a clean one.

‘I tended to you as a boy, when you were an orphan… then you disappeared one day and then reappeared in my life, after bumping into River at her office, asking for a job… Now you have bound me to a chair and shot my maid…why are you doing this?’

‘I’m doing my job… It’s a favour to my father.’

‘I never knew your adopted father.’

‘I am talking about my biological father.’

‘And that is?’

‘The man Clara is with right now.’

John felt sick. This was not happening. It couldn’t. How could Robert be Marco’s son? 

‘I’ll enlighten you, Uncle,’ he offered, watching the confusion on his face.

He went into detail of how Marco found him wandering the streets, after trying to pick-pocket him. The man almost took off his hand for attempting to steal from him, but thought he might be good for better jobs and asked if he had any parents. When he said he was an orphan, he clothed, fed and sheltered him and gave him a job around his lab, pick-pocketing buyers. He would snatch the packets of drugs they bought after paying, and return them to the street dealers, selling their previously bought fix for twice the amount.

As the boy grew and his loyalty was eminent, Marco found he bore a strange resemblance to himself. The underlord did some digging and found the answers he needed from the orphanage and a visit to the doctor’s office. Ever since then, he was sent to school and educated amongst the best. At the age of fifteen, the news of his parents was broken to him. He took his abandonment hard and demanded to meet his mother.

Marco gave him her address and met with the woman. He told her everything and she was so horrified, she threatened to call the police, denying everything he told her. He showed her the paternity test and the copy of the documents Marco had found to prove his plight. She offered him money to leave her alone and denied who he was, condemning his very existence. Her words cut like a knife and he tried to reason with her, till she pointed a pistol at him, threatening to shoot if he lingered any longer.

He left her alone and never attempted to step foot near her, again. The abandonment made him feel worthless and it slowly gnawed at him, till he felt nothing but hatred toward her. He had heard of his half-sister but decided, anything of Emily Oswald’s blood was cursed and he dissociated himself from her and her entire family. From then on, he locked that part of himself away and focussed on his father, carrying out his deeds. He was quite the business and hitman, buying over police officers to cover his father’s tracks.

The opportunity arose when Dave Oswald had come fully into the picture and his father made the deal to find Clara a husband in three months. Unbeknown to him, the last thing he was expecting was John to become involved. However, he seized the moment to take his rage out on his scoundrel of a mother although instructed to kill Dave. He had waited for him in the dark alleyway a few streets from John’s office, anticipating him to pass by in his car for a full ambush; but when he saw Emily getting out of her car a few minutes before, he couldn’t help himself.

Marco had scolded him endlessly, the grief evident on his face which he quickly masked to get his business underway. His father was unable to know what was happening inside the Smith manor and as such, Robert was thrown into the mix. He was meant to try to sweep his half-sister off her feet, to get John jealous and aim for a divorce, knowing his father was falling in love with his sibling. The thought made him sick, but after the drama he underwent after killing his mother, the best way he could make it up, was by sparing Clara’s life. Quite frankly, he wished she were dead too.

However, persuading Amy was much easier, and truth be told, he was attracted to her. He had not intended to shoot her, but with his father’s eyes watching his every move after planting the small camera in the dining area the same day, he had to show he was sticking to the plan. If only things were different, he would have left her unharmed, but Amy had a big mouth and letting her loose would cause a lot of trouble.

‘So, you should thank me for not killing your wife,’ he said, haughtily.

‘Why, Robert?’ was all John could say.

He did not reply and snapped his fingers, two of Marco’s men walking in. They undid his binding and led him out of the room, through the dining area with the ghastly sight of his men all dead on the floor, like flies. He gulped audibly and felt nausea beginning to build in his chest. They shoved him into an awaiting car outside, Robert following a few minutes later.

‘Did you kill my other staff… as well?’ he asked, carefully.

‘No. I spared them. They’re locked in the wine cellar downstairs and being watched like a hawk.’

John blew a sigh of relief and then wondered about Amy.

‘What about Amy?’

‘There’s nothing I can do about her right now.’

Mr Smith felt his eyes burn, knowing she could very well die.

‘Is Clara safe? Where, are we going?’

‘You’ll see. We’re off to my father’s.’

The silver haired man felt his chest tighten and he could only think of one possibility that could arise from him visiting Marco. He prayed silently for a miracle, as he knew this was the end. If only they could’ve gotten in contact with Kate.


	29. The words unspoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *goes into hiding* o.o

Chapter 29

Clara sat in her chair, arms wrapped protectively around herself. The only thing on her mind right now, was John. Was he alright? Amongst other things, she had a half-brother she knew nothing about; who was sent to seduce in a to attempt to break her at-the-time failing marriage. It was too much to comprehend. Her head ached, and she wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare; warm in her bed, nestled in her husband’s warm, protective arms.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, finding the courage to look Marco in the eye without bursting into tears.

‘I enjoy watching people suffer,’ was his reply, as he sipped a glass of champagne.

‘Why not just take me when you had the chance, instead of making John’s life miserable?’

‘It was just amusing, I suppose. However, I never expected to hold any affections towards you. I guess love is a strange thing after all.’

‘If you so called love me, then you’ll let me go and my husband and his household too… and leave us be!’ she hissed.

‘I don’t play that way,’ he said with a wild grin.

A hard knock echoed on the white wooden door to the room and Marco called out for the person to enter. Robert emerged, with two hunky men both trailing him, and between them was a terrified John, trying to compose a face of complete calm.

‘John!!’ Clara shouted, the moment she laid eyes on him and sprang out her seat, immediately throwing her arms around him. He closed his arms around her and held her tight, relieved she was alive and well.

‘Enough!’ spat Marco and yanked Clara by the hair, pulling her toward him.

One of the brutes that entered with Robert, shoved John into a chair and handcuffed him to the spot. The underlord produced a sheet of paper and handed it to Clara.

‘Your divorce papers,’ he chimed.

Robert snickered, earning a glare from his half-sibling.

‘What have my mother and I ever done to hurt you?’ she spat, eying him angrily.

‘That bitch abandoned me at birth and refused to acknowledge my very existence. Do you know how hard it is to live in an orphanage where you are constantly underfed, beaten up and taken advantage by fellow orphans and not to mention, treated like shit by the people who tend to you?!’

‘I’m sorry that happened to you… and I never knew she did that or you ever existed… but you know what Marco is about! How could you help him hurt all those people?’ she reasoned.

‘He cared for me when nobody else would. I am loyal to him, forever.’

‘You’re not worthy of being an Oswald,’ Clara threw at him.

‘I’m a Ramirez, you twat.’

Marco held a pen in her direction.

‘I’m not signing divorce papers.’

The druglord cocked a brow and nodded to his son, who was more than glad to throw a few punches a John’s face.

‘Stop it!’ she screamed, slapping him across the face.

Marco rubbed his cheek and smiled wickedly at her. The cock of a gun got her attention, as Robert pointed it to the back of John’s head. Clara gasped loudly, her body shivering with fright.

‘Sign or he dies… I’m keeping to my family honour of not macking a married woman… Once you sign these papers, I’ll officially consider you single and fax them to my lawyer immediately,’ he divulged.

Clara and John’s eyes met, and she gave him a weak smile; the pain she felt evident on her round face. She took the pen from the evil man’s hand and signed the paper. John’s turn was next, and he did so with a heavy heart, biding himself perhaps a couple more minutes to live.

‘Good. Fax this immediately,’ instructed the Spanish villain, handing the documents to one of his men.

‘Are you enjoying this?’ the little lady questioned Robert, who wore an unreadable expression.

He did not answer. The brunette felt an arm snake around her waist, tugging her toward them. She felt disgusted and fought against the grasp, till she was spun around and forced to look Ramirez in the eye, their faces a few inches from one another.

‘Now, for our security,’ he said and slid his hand up her leg unexpectedly, ripping off the small knife she hid on her garter belt.

She looked at him in shock. Of course, he’d suspect her of carrying a weapon. It came as no surprise when slid the cellphone she hid in the hem of her dress, as well. She should have known better. He had years of experience with such things, especially running a drug lab where the workers had to be close to if not entirely nude. He tossed the phone onto the floor and stomped on the device, destroying it in one go.

‘Now that’s taken care of... I’ve gotten Robert to make John write his suicide note.’

Clara frowned, and he showed her a page covered in her husband’s handwriting no doubt. She glanced at John, and the look he gave, the words unspoken between them, she knew Marco was not lying. A tear rolled down her cheek as she fully understood what was to come. They were going to kill John… make it look like suicide… blame the divorce for his rash decision while she became the topic of debate, leaving the entrepreneur for another wealthy, more influential and powerful man…

‘Please don’t do this…’ she begged Marco, the tears uncontrollable, now.

He smiled and pulled her into a rough kiss. She fought against his grasp, his strength overpowering her as John watched, helplessly. Clara quickly shoved him away the moment he let go and wiped her mouth, completely disgusted. He took the gun from his son and checked the magazine, which was full. 

‘Any last words, Mr Smith?’ he asked, pointing the gun to him.

‘No!! Please!’ shouted Clara, one of Marco’s men restraining her.

‘It was nice doing business with you… John,’ he said.

‘Nooooo!!!’ screamed Clara, but her voice was drowned out, as the sound of the gun going off, filled the room.


	30. To live or die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I know you are quite upset with the last chapter, with the cliffhanger and I was not going to post till next Friday, but because I love you all so much... here's the next chapter.
> 
> It's a bit bloody, but good always prevail right?
> 
> The fic is almost done and I must say, it's been a roller coaster writing it! I had so much fun and the love and support from you guys has made it exceptionally enjoyable to continue writing.
> 
> I am planning to write another after this, but I have two ideas. I'll post the synopses at the end of the last chapter of this fic and let you choose! 
> 
> However, there are a few things we need to get past in this fic like... is John going to be okay? Has Clara ever told him she loved him? Will there be another smut scene? Will there be an impact on their marriage after such traumatizing events?
> 
> Something to think about ;)

Chapter 30

Everything felt like it was in slow-motion. Marco pulling the trigger, John’s face seconds before the bullet lodged into the soft flesh around his abdomen, Robert looking on almost in horror at Clara’s terrified face and her persistent screaming, as she tried to wriggle free from the bodyguard’s hold. A fierce bite on the man’s arm, was all it took to release her as she ran to her husband’s side.

‘John! John!’ she screamed, holding his face in her small palms.

He winced and looked at her, face already caked in sweat. She stared at his wound, the white shirt he wore, soaked through fast. Thinking fast, she tore at her dress and pressed the ripped fabric against his injury. He yelled in pain, at the sudden pressure. 

Marco grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her away.

‘Leave him, be. Let him bleed to death and suffer,’ the evil man ordered.

‘Let’s go, Robert.’

The young man stood unmoved, staring at the silver headed male whose face a moment ago was the colour of life. Now it shadowed death, the colour seeping from his aged skin.

‘Call an ambulance!’ she begged her half-sibling.

‘He’s done nothing to you! If you have anything to be angry about, it’s my mother. Hate me too if you will, but please,’ she choked, ‘don’t let him die…’

‘Enough!’ hissed Marco and dragged her towards the exit, kicking and screaming.

‘No! Please! Let me go!’ she cried.

Marco grew impatient and slapped the brunette across the face, stunning her and threw her over his shoulder like a rag doll, hauling her out of the building.

John groaned, his strength dwindling, as the minutes ticked by.

‘What have I done…?’ mumbled Robert, looking at him.

John raised his head to look at him; his breath in shallow, uneven gasps.

‘You did what you think was right…’ Mr. Smith answered.

‘I thought I wanted this but…’

‘He’s your father and given your circumstances… you let your emotions control… you… Clara never knew about you… and I’m sure she would’ve done something if… she knew… you... existed,’ he groaned.

‘She’s nice…’ the floppy haired lad found himself saying.

‘I just can’t forgive my mother…’

‘She did it because she thought it would’ve been best for you… it was harsh and cruel, and the reason she wanted no affiliation was because… she knew… what kind…of… man…Marco…was…’

‘What have I done, uncle…? You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I betrayed you and your family… I’m responsible for killing your entire security unit and torturing the staff that tended to my every need without a single thought…’

John panted, the beads of sweat streaming down his neck.

‘Then right the wrong… and save Clara… my wife… your…sister…’

He began to cough, wincing everytime his chest and stomach contracted. Robert got to action, undoing his constraints and helped him to his feet.

‘I-I’m so sorry…’

‘Save the pleasantries for later. We need to save Clara,’ he groaned, clutching his belly.

Robert stripped off his jacket and pressed it against his stomach, as he threw one of John’s arm over his neck and hobbled towards the building’s exit. 

‘Stay here,’ he ordered, setting him down near the doorway.

John nodded and took the cellphone Robert handed him. There was only one number he was going to call, and it was not the police. By the goodness of the Gods above, maybe he might strike luck and get an answer.

‘Did you finish the deed?’ Marco asked, handing Clara over to one of his men.

‘Yes. He’s dead.’

Clara’s eyes widened, and she shifted gazes between the two men. Her body felt limp, her knees giving away under her, and she fell to the ground in silence. She clutched her chest and shuddered, the truth too hard to bear. Robert looked at his sibling and smirked. Marco turned his back to him, proceeding to the vehicle and what Clara saw next was not something she expected.

The boy pulled out his gun and shot the three unsuspecting bodyguards in the blink of an eye. His father spun around in utter surprise.

‘What do you think you you’re doing?!’ he shouted.

‘Putting and end to this madness. John and Clara have suffered enough.’

Ramirez burst out laughing, clutching his stomach from the sudden amusement. 

‘I’ve waited twenty-five years to get your mother back. If you hadn’t killed her in the first place, there’d be nothing like this happening right now, would there?’ he hissed.

‘I acted out of hate, dad. I wasn’t thinking at the time and I am sorry I caused you grief. However,… everything you’ve being doing all your life is wrong… John shouldn’t suffer because he has ties to the Oswalds…’

‘Why is that?’

‘It’s a blood feud you had between Emily and Dave. John and Clara are mere victims from your rash jealousy, because your life style is dangerous and toxic to others. No matter what, Emily was never going to love you. You know this. Taking Clara will not change that fact. She’ll probably quicker kill herself than let you have her.’

Marco flared his nostrils and crossed his arms.

‘And you think by getting me to let them go, will fix everything? Look around you. John’s dead. Clara is mine and will be no matter what. Dave is finally dead after all the suffering I put him through and so is your mother. What happened to that hate you held towards the rest of her family? Don’t you hate your sister, still?’ he taunted.

‘When you first sent me to seduce her, I hadn’t thought of her as such. But the time I got to know her… she was as much a victim as I am and John.’  
‘How are you a victim? You are my son.’

‘You made me do your dirty work! I looked up to you, because I had no family and am loyal to you because of that… but even I had to admit that what we do is wrong… and I will not let you harm my sister or anyone else again with your threats and power!’

Marco looked at him disdainfully.

‘Very well. After all, you are your mother’s son. It’s only obvious you’d have her traits as well!’ he spat and whipped out his hidden gun, shooting the young man at point blank range.

The scene was too much for Clara to handle and she scrambled to her feet, the moment Robert hit the ground with a loud thud. She looked around, sense finally hitting her like a slap to the face and dove into the driver’s seat of the car behind her. She locked the doors, but unfortunately the keys were nowhere in the ignition.

‘Clara!’ shouted Marco, pounding on the driver’s window.

Her heart raced in her chest and she searched in vain for the key. She tugged at the cover below the steering wheel and thanks to Amy’s whacky knowledge, she hot wired the car. The moment the engine sprung to life, the window gave way, Marco having broken through the glass with a large rock and grabbed at her throat. She screamed and fought him off, putting the gear in drive and stepping on the gas.

The car bolted forward at top speed, Marco clinging to the side for dear life. Clara swerved around in a sharp turn, sending the underlord flying across the dirt. He stood up, dazed and without thought, she lined the vehicle up and drove straight into him, blood splattering across the windshield the moment they impacted. The brunette put the car in reverse and backed up, the man’s body lifeless on the ground. She shifted the gear into drive once more and ran him over again.

Mrs Smith jumped out of the car, took up the gun strewn in the muddy earth and approached Ramirez’s body with extreme caution. She kicked him with her foot a few times, his body unmoving. Next, she ran to Robert, who laid flat on his back, panting heavily.

‘I-I’m sorry… Clara…’ he said, tears streaming down his face.

‘It’s not your fault,’ she croaked, taking his hand.

‘John’s alive… he’s near the exit to the building on the right… get…help…’

Clara’s lower lip trembled, as her brother began coughing up large chunks of darkly coloured blood. She knew it was the end and there was nothing that could be done to save him now.

‘I gave… John… my phone… he should’ve called help… by now…’ he wheezed.

‘I’m sorry… I did this… to you…’

‘It’s not your fault. I understand why you did it,’ she sobbed, stroking his head.

‘John was more like a father to me… than Marco…’

Clara nodded and watched him burst into a series of coughs again.

‘The building... it’s his old lab… he didn’t bring anymore of his… men with him… I killed them all… but the others… may get the memo… something’s wrong… Get out of here… before they find… you…’ he whispered.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, before exhaling and staring up unblinkingly.

‘Robert…?’ she called, hoarsely.

‘Rest now, my brother…’ she whispered and closed his eyes.

Time was of the essence and she needed to find John, before it was too late.

‘John?!’ she shouted, nearing the door.

‘Here…’ she heard a weak reply and rushed over to see him slumped against the wall, his face deathly pale.

‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed and grabbed him, trying in vain to get him towards the car.

The sound of tires and the slamming of car doors disturbed the silent night air along with the sound of hurried footsteps. Clara closed her eyes and hugged John, assuming that the rest of Marco’s men had arrived, and this was the end.

‘He’s dead!’ shouted a male’s voice from afar.

The couple held onto each other and hobbled into the open, knowing it made no sense to hide. The scene they were met with was one they had not expected, and the Smiths were flooded with relief.

‘Clara!’ called a blonde woman, spotting them from across the parking lot.

The little lady began to cry and opened her arms as she recognized none other than Kate Stewart. She hugged the little lady and looked at John, immediately shouting for one of her medics.

‘I got your voice messages an hour ago and then your husband managed to call me just when I finished listening to them. I traced his call and found your location and rushed over here as fast as I could,’ she explained.

‘Thank you for coming…’ she said gratefully.

‘Anytime. We’ve been trying to crack down on Marco for months… your case is certain of kidnapping and attempted murder… I see someone finally did him a number and his son too.’

Clara bit her lip and decided not to let any details of her relation to Robert slip by. Better to keep it under the radar for their security.

‘Him and his son had a feud at the end and they killed one another,’ she lied.

Kate looked at her in disbelief but nodded and led her to the back of the ambulance, where her husband was lying in a stretcher.

‘Anything else I need to know?’ she asked.

Clara shared her story with the woman, telling her of how her marriage with John came to be and how they ended up in the situation they were in now. The woman nodded and offered her both her condolences and sympathy.

‘I promise to get this all cleared and ensure it does not make the papers,’ she reassured, and helped her into the back seat of the ambulance. She sat beside John and caressed his face, worry overcoming her.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ she asked the paramedic, who was placing a blanket atop his skinny frame.

‘He’s lost a lot of blood… his body can go into shock any moment. We need to rush him to the hospital and get him to surgery as soon as possible,’ he said, grimly.

Clara pursed her lips and bend forward, planting a kiss to her husband’s forehead.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she mumbled in his ear, as she clung onto every bit of hope left.


	31. The damage that's left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... o.o

Chapter 31

One year later

Amy and Clara smiled at one another, as they made the bed together. Thankfully John had notified Kate about his staff and how badly Amy was injured, back at the mansion. When the ambulance had arrived, she was in bad shape, but thankfully the doctors who tended to her were miracle workers. As for John, they had to work a bit harder, Clara never leaving his side. She prayed hard that he would make it and by the Gods he did. There were no major damages and the doctor placed him in her care, after discharging him a few weeks later. 

Kate managed to keep everything out of the press’s ear and finally dealt away with all the crooked police members wrapped in Marco’s chain. The bad memories that lingered in their home was too much to bear and John put the estate up on the market. He received a wonderful purse for it and paid his workers generously, for all their years of service. Some wished him and Clara well for the future, while others asked to come along and continue to work for the couple in their new abode. Blackpool held too many dark secrets, so John opted for moving to his hometown, Glasgow, Scotland.

Clara loved the new area and house, a wonderful small manor, they now resided in. Sadly, there was no room to keep a stable and Clara said farewell to Sheba and Midnight, both gifted to Wilfred as a thank you present. All was well, Amy and Mr. Smith now fully recovered. However, there was a difference to John after Robert’s funeral. He grew withdrawn and busied himself with work, despite his freshly healing wound. Many nights he arrived home late, not bothering to eat and spent many hours in his office doing paperwork. Clara thought he had a backlog of things to tend to, including legalities that may have tied to Marco’s death and perhaps Robert. 

As the months went by, he kept it up, barely resting. Many times, she’d beckon him to get some sleep, but he’d give her the cold shoulder and she’d wake up in the middle of the night to his side of the bed empty, Sometimes, she’d check in on him, to see him staring blankly out the window, a glass of wine in hand and deep in thought. She eventually brought the subject up, but his mind was so preoccupied with other ‘pressing matters’, he barely heard anything she said. She took it hard as it became a common trend and fear rose in her, as she thought the wildest of possibilities.

‘Do you think… John is having an affair?’ she asked Amy, suddenly.

The redhead looked up and frowned.

‘No. Mr. Smith loves you too much to do such thing.’

Clara gave a sad smile and nodded, ‘I guess you’re right.’

Amy rest her hand on the brunette’s shoulder.

‘I think he’s just taking longer to adjust to everything that’s happened… Give him time… Maybe do something for him. He’d appreciate that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Sex always works,’ she suggested, mischievously.

The women chuckled like school children who just heard a naughty joke nobody was supposed to hear. Amy opened one of her newly stocked closets and pulled out a black velvet box. Clara opened it and found the red lingerie that was strewn on the bedside table, on their wedding night. How terrified she was about wearing it. Now, it seemed like the best idea.

‘Amy, you are the best!’ she squealed and gave the maid a hug.

\----

John clamoured into the house well after midnight. He tossed his briefcase onto the living room couch and headed upstairs to take a shower. When he snuck into the bedroom, he found his bed empty to his surprise.

‘Good evening, darling,’ purred Clara, decked in her devil red seductive wear.

John scanned her from head to toe, before locking stares.

‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ he asked, blandly.

‘I was waiting for you,’ Mrs Smith said sweetly and walked up to him, placing her palms on his nice, broad chest.

She tip-toed and pecked him on the cheek and then his chin, saving his lips for last, lingering there longer the longest. John made little effort to kiss her back and she pretended to ignore the fact that he seemed not-in-the-mood. In another attempt, she pulled him towards their bed and slipped his jacket off, before pushing him onto the mattress and straddled him. Slowly she undid the top two buttons to his shirt and placed soft kisses along his neck.

‘Clara… stop…’ 

She immediately stiffened and looked him in the eye.

‘I-Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?’ she asked, worriedly.

‘I can’t do this,’ he said and gently pulled her off his lap and stood up, ruffling his mass of greying curls.

Clara gave an embarrassed chuckle, trying hard not to feel insecure.

‘What’s wrong, dear?’

‘Now isn’t the time… for this…’

She frowned and crossed her arms across her chest; the disappointment, worry and upset for the past year bottled up for so long, now threatening to escape.

‘Well when is the right time? Tomorrow? The day after? Next two months? Never?!’ she shouted.

‘Clara… please don’t raise your voice,’ he pleaded, rubbing his temples.

‘Don’t raise my voice?! You haven’t been yourself ever since Robert’s funeral, John! You’ve drifted so far from me, I don’t even know who you are anymore!’

‘I’m the same person. There’s no difference,’ he defended.

‘No, you’re not! You’re always working late. You don’t spend time with me anymore. I barely see you and when I do it’s just a glimpse because you hide away in your office all evening or night! We don’t even share the same bed anymore!’

John swallowed hard, knowing she was telling the truth.

‘I’ve been busy…’

‘So, have I! I’ve got tons of orders to do and, yet I still try to make an effort to spend time with you, but you shut me out! We don’t talk anymore! We don’t laugh anymore! You don’t even TOUCH me anymore! Not even a goddamn goodnight kiss, I can get from you!’ she screamed.

‘I know you had surgery and it was hard at first but now you’re properly healed. I thought with everything that’s happened and life now being normal, we’d be a happy couple…’

‘We are a happy couple…’

She shook her head, eyes red and welling up with tears.

‘Who is she, John?’ she questioned?

‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, completely taken aback.

‘Who’s the other woman? Is she younger than me? Is she pretty?’

‘Why would you think I’d cheat on you? There’s no room in my heart for anyone else, but you!’ he defended.

‘Then why are you being like this…?’ she questioned, tears streaming down her face.

‘I love you, John. I don't know who you are anymore... I just want my husband back...’ she sobbed, grabbing her robe and throwing it on.

‘Clara please don’t cry… I…’

She didn’t wait for him to finish. Instead, the little lady snatched her pillow and pyjamas and ran out the room, leaving John standing alone in the darkness.


	32. Just tell me you're sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I would to to thank each and every one of you for making this fic a success. I had tons of fun writing, lots of late nights proof reading and not to mention day dreaming the scenes at work and wreaking some havoc when my mind drifted too far lol!
> 
> It was a rocky start and I know there are people who became disappointed or uninterested with the story at different points. However, I still would like to thank you all for giving it a chance and I love you guys! I have had a very busy week and weekend and this upcoming week/weekend will be no different. With that said, I was unable to draft the summaries for my next two potential fics, and offer you to choose as I had mentioned in a previous chapter.
> 
> I am sorry about that... so the next fic I post will just be the one I feel most comfortable with given, I've soundly thought through the plot. More than likely it will be a medieval/fantasy/fairy-tale type setting... with a sort of forbidden love element.
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope you enjoy this last chapter! I know John and Clara have been through a lot and this entire chapter is generally... well... you'll see ;)
> 
> PS A special shout out to my regular commenters whose comments I looked forward to reading after every post!
> 
> ThePurpleFrockCoat, Tchylle, D4rkSkyes, AgentLunaA, pumpkin and magicinthenight91!! Any other persons I forgot to mention, I love you guys too and thank you so much!
> 
> *BIG HUG*

Chapter 32

Clara spent the next few days locked in her art room, painting her days away. She was so mad at John, about everything… It felt like Marco was still creating havoc in their lives, from beyond the grave. She wondered if John even realized what he was doing. Not once, in the last few days had he attempted to reach out and apologize or spend at least five minutes with her, since their little spat. The thought of it hurt immensely. 

In the beginning, he tried everything to try to win her heart and now that he had it, did it mean the excitement in their marriage was now lost? She sighed and put the paintbrush now, her large brown eyes scanning the finished product. It was a portrait of Sheba and Midnight from a photograph she had taken a few days before they were given to Wilfred. How those wonderful beasts helped her cope with her situation then. It was a shame they were no longer under their care. 

Mrs Smith glanced at the clock on the wall. Six o’clock on the dot. John should be leaving his office about now. He’d be hungry by the time he got home. The question was if he’d eat anything at all, when he arrived. She yawned, the grumbling of her tummy announcing it was time she had dinner alone, once again. 

At the table, Amy had set two plates, piping hot with a delicious soup and bread. The food tasted and smelt wonderful, but she had no appetite. After forcing herself to drink every drop, she blew out the candle in the middle of the dining table and placed a lid over her husband’s share. It was still early, and she decided to watch some telly, settling herself down onto the large sofa with Little John for company. 

\---

John eased the front door shut a little after midnight and tossed his keys onto the table. He was dead tired, and Clara was the only thing on his mind since her outburst a couple of nights ago. She was right. He had been neglecting her and she must’ve felt like he no longer held any interest in her whatsoever. There was so much plaguing him; the mental torture of Marco’s tyranny, robbing him of his peace of mind. It was so bad, he unconsciously stopped communicating with the most important person in his life.  
Unfortunately, duties at the office had him preoccupied, otherwise he would have apologized and began righting the wrongs he did a lot sooner. Hopefully it wasn’t too late and maybe Clara would forgive him for being such an arse.

The old man stared at the bouquet of roses and bottle of wine he held in his hands. It was late, and it was highly unlikely she’d be up, although part of him remained hopeful. Slowly he made his way into the living room, not a soul to be seen or sound to be heard, except the random program airing on the flat screen tv mounted on the wall. He walked towards it, unable to find the remote and discovered his sleeping beauty curled up on the couch, the horse plushie he gifted her a year ago, safely nestled in her arms.

Her cheeks had a pink blush to them, her hair braided with stray strands sticking out at odd angles here and there. He smiled at the scene and took a picture with his phone. Carefully, he picked her up and took her to their room, gently resting her atop the bed. Carefully, he spread the warm blanket over her and undressed, sliding under the covers to join her, clad only in his underpants. She shifted in her sleep, the moment he rested his head on the pillow, her back towards him.

He pulled her flush against him, the warm heat from his body radiating against her. Clara felt the difference, despite sleep mostly dominating her senses. She turned in his direction, eyes still closed and tucked herself into him, her face and hands pressed against his chest. He smiled and rested his head atop hers and threw a leg over her hips, completely enveloping their bodies. 

‘I missed you…’ Clara mumbled, sleepily.

John planted a kiss to her neck and whispered in her ear, ‘I missed you too, darling.’

\---

John woke up to the sound of the shower running and Clara’s side of the bed empty. He sat up and ruffled his hair, before entering the bathroom. Through the shower curtain, he could make out the curve of his wife’s hips and the smooth skin on her back. Without much thought, he undressed and stepped into the small bathing area. The hot water felt glorious and the way it ran down Clara’s back, sent a pang of hunger shooting through him. 

He lightly ran his fingers across her back, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder slowing working his way to her neck.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, gruffly.

He halted and fumbled for words, ‘I… uh… wanted to wish you good morning…?’

She glowered at him.

’Good morning, John. You’re invading my shower.’

He was taken aback by her tone and sensed she was still upset.

‘Clara… I’m sorry for neglecting you lately…’ he began, turning her around to face him.

‘Lately?!’ she hissed, crossing her arms firmly over her bare chest.

‘For everything since the incident,’ he corrected.

‘The last person I wanted to hurt was you… I’ve had problems sleeping at night since then and I work till I’m so exhausted I pass out on the chair in the office.’

She looked at him upset.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? We’re in this together. For better or for worse, remember?’ 

‘I’m a stupid old man…’ 

She chuckled and reached up to stroke his cheek.

‘Yes, you are. Promise you’ll talk to me if something’s bothering you, rather than work yourself to death and scare me like you did?’

He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles.

‘I promise.’

She smiled at him and then gave him a cheeky grin.

‘I believe you have a lot of making up to do. A year is a long time and we both know, your whole intention was not to get naked in the shower with me, just to say good morning.’

John growled and responded by pressing the little lady against the tiled wall and kissed her breathless. She looped her arms around his neck, as he travelled down her neck, laying kisses on every inch of skin his mouth found; ensuring to hit every spot that made her moan. When he connected his lips with hers again, he cupped her sex and began rubbing at her nub, stoking the fire in her already aroused core. 

He spun her around, back facing him and spread her legs wide, while she braced her arms against the wall. The cries of pleasure that escaped their mouths the moment he entered her was like music to their ears. It’d been too long, since they’d connected. John thrust into her slowly, his entire upper body flush on her back; his hips working the right rhythm to feed the pit of starvation he left between them. 

He pulled out, spun her around and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, the moment he picked her up; her back now braced against the wall as he pounded into her. He was no gentlemen going slow and gentle this time and she loved every moment of it. They both felt their orgasm crash over them not long after, both panting heavily.  
Quickly they washed up and the second they walked out of the bathroom, John lifted Clara into his arms and splayed her onto the bed, legs spread wide and feasted on her. Clara arched her back and ground her hips against his face, his tongue working miracles and the pleasure was so much to bear, she swore she’d pass out. When she screamed his name when she hit her romantic peak, he didn’t stop and kept devouring her, lapping her juices and licking her clean till she came again. 

She thought that was the end but when she sat up and looked at his hardness, she couldn’t leave him undone. They switched places and lay him down and took his enormous length into her mouth. John moaned uncontrollably, thrusting in and out, the sensation of hitting the back of his wife’s throat driving him further to the edge. He felt himself drawing close and sat up. Clara gave him a confused look, but understood when he pulled her onto his lap, back to him and legs spread wide, him holding her knees while he thrusted up, into her wetness.

The brunette nearly wept from the new position, her moans now wails of pure pleasure and passion as her husband plunged deeply into her over and over again. Their screams were loud, and they found themselves exhausted and bodies slick with sweat after climaxing.

‘T-That… was… AMAZING!’ said Clara between breaths.

John smirked and rolled on top of her. Her eyes opened wide and she grew a bit concerned he might hurt his back after having so much sex for the morning, so far.

‘I’m not done yet,’ he said, wiping away the hair that was stuck to her face.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive,’ he replied and claimed her lips with his, as he positioned himself to enter her again.

\----

Amy smiled at the couple as they sat for breakfast later that morning, winking at Clara who looked more than satisfied. As for John, he looked as if he could take his little wife any moment now. Clara eyed John, as she felt him run his foot up her leg. She chuckled ad batted it away with hers and proceeded to torment him the same way, slowly creeping up his and then carefully pressing her foot into his crotch, wiggling her toes suggestively. His gaze grew dark and Amy looked at the two, knowing they were ready to have another go. 

It’d been a noisy morning, the sound of the bed rocking and the endless moans and cries she heard echoing throughout the house from their room was more than enough to hint what they were up to. It was nice to see them look happy after so long.

‘Enjoy your meal,’ she chimed and exited the door, closing the door but not entirely as she and her fellow maid peeked from the crack.

The second Amy was gone, the Smiths jumped out of their chairs and crushed their lips together; kissing one another as if it were their last. Clara slid onto the table and quickly rid of her knickers as John unfastened his trousers before taking her on the dining room table. The shattering of glass did not even phase them, as their meal was accidentally knocked off the hardwood surface by their desperation to remove each other’s clothing.

John took the bottle of wine, the only thing left on the table and poured them over Clara’s bare breasts. She gasped as the cold liquid made contact with her skin, her nipples hardening in response. However, that was the intention as her silvered fox sucked and licked it clean, simultaneously rocking his hips into hers. 

‘You’re so big,’ she cried.

John responded by pulling out and rubbing his head on her engorged clit, before entering again. Mrs Smith hooked her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his back, leaving long scratches, while he worked her over along with himself. Amy and her friend giggled as the pair ended their session once again with loud screams and paid their dues, with the little bets they made. They both looked on as Clara took John by the hand and guided him upstairs.

‘Not again…’ Amy’s co-worker groaned.

‘They’re happy. Leave them be,’ Amy defended and shut the door, as the loud banging of furniture and moaning began again.

\----

John lay atop his wife, kissing her tenderly, their hands linked together.

‘I love you,’ John said, taking a break and resting his head on Clara’s chest.

She smiled and ran her fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

‘I love you, too. I’m sorry I never said it sooner.’

‘The important thing is you did, and I know how you feel,’ he comforted.

They both chuckled and John sat up.

‘Will you marry me, Clara?’

She frowned, ‘We are married, silly!’

‘Well… Marco made us sign a divorce and I looked into it…’

‘And?’

‘The lawyer did some pretty illegal stuff and we’re no longer listed as ‘married’. Marco really was serious about his plight to have you…’

Clara sighed and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers.

‘Ask me again,’ she whispered.

He got up and took her wedding ring from the nightstand. He went down on one knee and Clara felt her heart skip a beat as he held the ring to her and asked, ‘Clara Oswald, will you marry me?’

Tears slid down her face as she said yes, and he slipped the ring onto her finger.

‘I love you, John,’ she cried.

‘I love you too.’

‘So, we have a wedding to plan…’

She shook her head.

‘Get a lawyer to undo Marco’s madness. If it’s illegal, it should be easy to correct. You know a few people who can fix it.’

‘Very true. I’ll do just that,’ he agreed.

‘However, I do believe a honeymoon is long overdue,’ she teased.

‘Anywhere you have in mind?’

‘Paris.’

‘I’ll book the flight tonight.’

She grinned and pulled him back into bed.

‘Good and it’d be nice to give the maids a break from our endless noise.’

‘Those poor women…’ he remarked and they both burst out laughing.

John held her close and they cuddled in bed. They felt for the first time, completely happy and free. In time Marco’s madness would leave and they’d get a peace of mind, but John promised himself to never withhold his feelings and thoughts from Clara again. He was more than grateful that after the rocky start of their marriage, they both came to love one another deeply and were inseparable; and he thanked the stars for having her by his side, after pining for her for so long.


	33. Special Chapter: The future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a few people had said they wished John and Clara had kids and honestly, I had planned to write that in the last chapter. However, I feel unsatisfied that I indeed had not included some kiddies and have prepared a special chapter for you all :)
> 
> Consider it a thank you for all the immense support you all have given me during the making of this fic!

Chapter 33 SPECIAL

Clara applied the finishing touches to the small birthday cake neatly laid atop the kitchen table. It’d been five years since her marriage to John. Somewhere within the last few weeks of their first year together, perhaps on their honeymoon or the period after John’s temporary withdrawal that lead to some seriously intense sex all morning long; she found herself with child not long after.

She smiled at the memory of John’s face the day she confirmed her suspicion after a quick visit to the doctor. He was overjoyed and began buying all the essentials the next day, although their baby was not to arrive into the world for another nine months. The entire household heard the great news and they celebrated that night, with a small party. Eventually as the night wore on, the couple shacked up in their bedroom and despite knowing Clara already had a bun in the oven, some nightly activities at such an early stage wouldn’t hurt anybody.

She stuck five candles into the sugary desert and lit them. It was time.

‘Happy Birthday to youuuu,’ the young mother began to sing, as she emerged from the kitchen into the backyard holding the exquisitely decorated cake.

Everyone, including the child’s friends joined in the singing and there was a loud cheer the moment the song ended.

‘Make a wish and blow out the candles, darling,’ Clara encouraged, with a large smile.

‘Not yet,’ the rosy cheeked child said.

‘Daddy isn’t here yet. I want him to be here.’

Clara pursed her lips and wondered for a minute where in the hell was John. He said he’d be there in ten minutes and yet there was no sign of him. The child looked up at her mother worriedly.

‘Where is he?’ she asked, eyes welling up.

Before her mother could answer, the banging of the front gate and thundering footsteps drew everyone’s attention, as Mr Smith rushed into the yard still in his workwear, briefcase in hand.

‘DADDYYYY!!!!!’ screamed the little girl, rushing towards him.

He flung his bag aside and stooped down, arms open wide and ready to grab his little princess. She flung herself into his embrace and hugged him tight. He lifted her up and placed kisses all over her little face.

‘I thought you weren’t going to come,’ she whined.

‘I’m sorry darling. I got caught in traffic,’ he apologized.

‘Not good enough! You were supposed to be here already!’ she scolded with an adorable bratty face.

John blinked at her and then burst out laughing. Oh, she surely had a lot of her mother in her, despite she looked like a wonderful blend between them. Her hair was brown and wavy, eyes blue but skin a lovely olive tone and not the pale milky hue like his.

‘Emily, you don’t want these candles burning forever,’ called Mrs Smith.

John finally looked at his wife and they both smiled at one another. He rest his daughter down and cheered as she blew out the candles, along with the rest of the gathering. With a fork, he fed her a small piece of cake, and so did she in return.

‘No cake for me?’ pouted Clara, watching the two happily enjoy her handiwork.

The ageable chap handed Emily the remainder of the slice and pushed her in the direction of her mom.

‘Go give your mummy a piece, hmm?’

She giggled, and Clara took her up and squealed as a large wedge of cake was stuffed into her mouth, icing all over her chin and cheek. 

‘Why don’t you go play with your friends?’ she ushered, and got to work slicing the cake and dishing out the rest to the guests.

While the kids were occupied playing tag and trying hard to hit the poor piñata, Clara wandered inside with the empty cake platter into the kitchen. She smirked when she felt her husband’s warm arms wrap around her waist, from behind.

‘Cake was delicious,’ he purred, nibbling at her earlobe.

She giggled and turned around in his embrace.

‘You didn’t feed me cake,’ she noted, placing her hands on his chest.

He grinned devilishly at her.

‘That can be solved. I see you’re wearing leftovers.’

She frowned and chuckled as he licked the icing off her face, before pulling her in for a passionate kiss. He pressed her into the table behind and felt his growing erection on her belly.

‘Not now. We have guests,’ she reasoned, rubbing his crotch.

‘And turning me on more, helps my plight?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She flashed him a wicked grin and pecked him on the lips, before running off to join the fun outside.

John shook his head and laughed. This woman drove him crazy in all the right ways and he never regretted marrying her. He followed after her and had a go at the piñata himself, gave free piggybacks and took endless selfies with his little girl. He spoilt her rotten and loved her to bits, just like her mother. 

When the party ended, and Clara had tucked her in for the night, she demanded John read her a bedtime story. He sat beside her, her little body snuggled against him, head using his arm for a pillow. Midway through the story, he glanced at her sound asleep and smiled. He set the book down and was met with a sound of protest as he attempted to climb off the bed. Her little hand gripped tightly to his shirt sleeve and he had to carefully pry her fingers free. For a small thing, she was strong.

‘I love you, little bug,’ he whispered, kissing her forehead.

‘Love you too, daddy,’ she mumbled, wrapping her arms around the small horse plushie.

\---

John sank into bed beside her beautiful wife, completely exhausted.

‘She made you read her a story?’ she asked, filing her nails.

‘Yep. Beauty and the beast again,’ he chuckled.

Clara laughed and settled in for the night, turning off the bedside lamp. The room was dark, the moonlight shining through the window, casting a silver glow upon the various objects.

‘She’s so much like you,’ he commented, embracing Clara.

‘And like you,’ she added, resting her head on his chest.

‘She’s beautiful, too. I’m going to have to keep a handgun on me at all times and threaten all the boys that get too close to her!’

They both chuckled at the thought and sighed happily, interlacing their fingers.

‘Are you happy, John?’

‘Very. You?’

‘Couldn’t be happier. I’m exactly where I want to me… with our daughter and my daft old man.’

‘I’m not old. I’m finely aged,’ he defended.

‘Whatever you say, grandpa,’ she taunted.

He furrowed his brows and climbed on top of her, holding her arms above her head.

‘I’ll show you what this grandpa is made of,’ he challenged, snaking his palm under her nightshirt.

The young woman hissed with the sensation she felt, as he rolled his thumb over her peaked nipple.

‘If we have another child, it’s on you,’ she growled.

‘I don’t mind. Besides, I’m sure Emily won’t mind being a big sister.’

‘I like the idea… I’m up for it,’ she agreed, hooking her hands in the waistband of her silver fox’s boxers.

‘Smith junior the second, coming right up,’ he growled, before kissing his wife deeply… one of many to come for the night.


End file.
